


Close Quarters

by orphan_account



Series: A Study In Emotion [2]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red hears that someone has put a hit out on Lizzie, and takes steps to keep her safe. One of those steps is that, until this is cleared up, she stays with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place much later than the previous story, in the future after Lizzie is no longer married to Tom. Will be long, and most likely to move up to E in rating, although it will be a slow build. Lizzie is very deeply in denial in this story, even when Red is acting smug and charming.

She'd had her whole day planned.

 

The _whole_ day of nothing but lounging around doing nothing.

 

The previous night Liz had vacuumed, done her laundry, washed the dishes, and bathed the dog just so there wouldn't be anything lingering the next day to disturb her from her plan. Then she'd turned off the alarm on her clock, the back up she had on her phone, as well as the one on her coffee maker.

 

The first day in over a month she'd had that she hadn't had work, errands to run, or things to unpack _was not_ going to be disrupted.

 

This morning, Liz hadn't even gotten out of bed until ten o’clock.

 

Not as late as the noon she'd been aiming for, but considering her day usually starts before six, ten is, to her, a perfectly acceptable alternative.

 

Next on her list had been watching television in her pajamas until she couldn't stand it anymore, followed by a long bath with a book.

 

She'd had a sinking feeling that her day of relaxation would be cut short when work had showed up on her caller ID, but being employed where she was meant that when she got a call from there, she had to answer it.

 

Even when she _wasn't_ on call.

 

And had other plans.

 

Which is why Liz is in a dingy construction site running after a scruffy twenty-something with her heart thumping loudly in her ears and adrenalin narrowing her vision aggressively to the skinny thread of her fleeing suspect in front of her rather than being at home curled up with her dog.

 

She can hear Ressler right behind her, all harsh breathing and heavy steps as they gain ground on their fleeing target. Their target has to slow down to turn a corner, and Liz puts on a burst of speed to catch up before he can disappear around the corner.

 

She's just inches from Scruffy (There hadn't been a name attached to the file they'd received on their lowly little extortionist, and Scruffy is as good a name as he deserves for causing her to be called in.), , her fingers reaching out to grab onto the back of his backpack as she dodges construction debris and tools, when Scruffy swerves purposely to the side and knocks overs one section of the precariously stacked drums of gravel littering the construction sight.

 

Liz manages to dodge the first canister that careens down on her, the heavy object crashing and cracking as it hits the hard cement loudly, spilling the pea sized gravel inside of it all over the floor. The second one manages to clip shoulder her though, catching her and causing her to stumble and scramble to keep her footing on the gravel that now slides unsteadily under her feet.

 

She's somehow kept hold of Scruffy's bag throughout this, and the struggle causes the worn looking backpack to creak strenuously as it stretches before ripping along a seam. The sudden lack of resistance has her falling hard backward, toward the precariously balanced large drums of gravel, and it is only instinct that has her tucking and rolling away from the drums threatening to fall on them.

 

Liz can feel the sharp bite the gravel on her shoulder, then on her back and neck as she hits the gravel covered concrete floor hard and continues to roll.

 

She hears Ressler shouting her name in alarm, but she waves him off, managing to cough out a “I'm fine, I'm fine, get him!” around the dust kicked up the gravel and gesturing toward Scruffy, who was already scrambling away. Ressler jumps over the fallen drums and runs after their target as Liz finds her feet once more.

 

On the ground among the gravel lay the scattered contents of Scruffy's bag, which had fallen out of the bag when it ripped. Liz bends down, despite the protests of her neck and shoulder, to pick up the usb drive she can see half way buried in the gravel.

 

With any luck, even if their suspect gets away, he'll have left behind something useful.

 

 

 

In the end, Scruffy stumbles over a pipe, and Ressler manages to tackle and cuff him before he gets lost in the maze like construction site.

 

Which means, for her at least, that she doesn't have to sit through hours meetings about what went wrong. Instead only has to stick around long enough collect the things scattered from Scruffy's bag catch up with Ressler and the rest of the team, and then she is home free just an hour after Ressler cuffed him.

 

Food. And then a bath.

 

Or the bath first. Her back and neck are making their unhappiness over her treatment of them well known each time she moves.

 

Not to the point where she thinks they should be checked out by a doctor, but more than enough to want to be careful with them.

 

Not to mention the fact that her shirt feels like sand paper against her back. She doesn't know if gravel and grit got down her shirt that she hasn't been able to shake out, or if her back is just that scraped up.

 

She can't lean back in her seat without her back rubbing against it uncomfortably, so she has to sit abnormally straight backed in her car, which in turn starts to make her lower back hurt in addition to the other complaints her body is nagging her with.

 

All this equates to her being in an already snippy mood before she even pulls up at her new place, to say nothing of the way her mood takes a dive when she spots the car Red's been using for the last couple of weeks parked a few cars down from her door. It's not Red himself, just Dembe waiting outside the car. Whenever Red sends him to fetch her after a job, Dembe is always waits outside the car for her. Whereas Red lets himself in and waits inside her home.

 

Which just goes to show that Dembe has better manners than Red does. _Or just that Red has no sense of personal space or boundaries when it comes to interacting with me._

 

Maybe it won't be a long visit.

 

Maybe he's just here to request a short, entirely optional social call for Red.

 

_Yeah, and while I'm dreaming, maybe he here to tell me that Red's changing occupations and joining the priesthood._

 

Well, no sense in hiding out here like she's too nervous to go outside and see what Dembe wants. The sooner she deals with him, the sooner she can get this shirt off and go back to her plans for the day.

 

She climbs gingerly out of her car, trying to keep from moving the muscles in her back or neck as much as possible- _No sense in trying to hide it. Even if Red doesn't know about me almost being made into a pancake, the second we get there, Dembe'll just tell him I'm trying to hide some injury._ He probably wouldn't even wait to tell Red, just call him on the way.Then she'd have a pissed off Red on her hands, and no hope of getting back to her place for a long while.

 

She isn't surprised that Dembe is already beside her car before she is even standing beside it, his hand on her elbow helping ease her way out of the car. “Is it serious?”

 

“No, no, it's not. Just- uncomfortable,” Liz reassures him. He still hasn't let go of her elbow, which is never a good sign. She looks down at the grip he has on elbow as she says flatly, “Let me guess, Red wants to see me.”

 

“He's advised me to tell you to get your dog, and anything you can't live without for a few days.”

 

 _Fuck._ “What?” _Maybe he doesn't mean what I think he means._

 

“You'll be staying at the safe-house with Red for a few days.”

 

 _He does mean what I think he means. “_ And I -and my dog- are just supposed to go?”

 

“He didn't think you'd want to stay that long without your dog.”

 

“Wow, that's rather optimistic of him. What means him think I'll want to stay even with my dog? And why do I even have to go at all?”

 

“He's advised me to let you ask him about that.” They both start up the steps to her place, and while he's let go of her, he's still sticking close.

 

“Of course he did. And I bet he told you just what to do if I decided to be difficult, didn't he?”

 

“It wouldn't be the most comfortable thing for you, especially with the- injury to your back is it?”

 

“Just a few scrapes. Not really even a- oh, forget it. Let me get my dog. Then we'll see just what Red has to say for himself.” Liz opens her door, and is surprised when Dembe goes in in front of her, weapon drawn, which makes her draw her own, even if she doesn't know what she's drawing it for. “Dembe?”

 

“Wait here.” He does a quick but through search of her place, which, as her new place is rather ridiculously small, doesn't take very long, even with her dog trailing excitedly after him. “It's clear, get your stuff, and let's go.” He moves to wait for her by the front door.

 

Ten minutes later, she, her dog, and the small bag of essentials are sitting in the back seat of Red's car, heading toward the safe-house. Dembe doesn't talk during the ride over, despite her attempts to get him to tell her what is happening.

 

She eventually gives up, and sits in silence for the rest of the ride. _One thing you can say about Red at least- He may have no concept of personal space, but at least he willing to help carry a conversation._

 

When they do arrive at the safe-house, Dembe is once again standing beside her door, helping her out of the car before she is even halfway out of the vehicle.

 

He has the dog leash in one hand, and the other is once again on her elbow. Once she and her dog are out of the car, he lets go of her elbow, and says, “Red is inside. I will be back later with your dog, he needs a walk. Red doesn't want to have any... accidents... inside.”

 

Liz moves toward the steps that go to the safe-house, and Dembe must have sent some message of their arrival to Red, because the door opens before she's two steps up.

 

Red appears from behind the door in his customary suit, although he's ditched the jacket, and his sleeves are partly rolled up. He still has the vest on though, and she can't help the way her eyes take a (hopefully stealthy) quick trip over his appearance.

 

Red looks nice, as always, but... his expression is not one of his normal ones. He looked- concerned, worried even, when he had first opened the door, then, when he saw her, relieved. It's gone almost before she realizes it, but she's seen it all the same.

 

That, even more than Dembe's coming to fetch her and checking her home for intruders, lets her know that something serious has happened. Red doesn't display that range of emotion on his face, not when it's real. “Red? What's happening? I asked Dembe, but he just said ask-”

 

She breaks off as Red's moves quickly down the steps to stand next to her, taking her bag from her, “Get inside, Lizzie. I'll explain there.”

 

He puts a hand on her lower back, pushing her forward. Which, unfortunately, also causes her shirt to rub against the portions of her back that feel like the they've been put through a meat tenderizer, causing her to swear and flinch away.

 

“Lizzie?”

 

She continues moving up the stairs, pace cautious as she tries to avoid moving her back too much. “It'd not serious, I just fell on some gravel.”

 

“You're moving like a ninety year old arthritis patient whose been hit by a car.”

 

She can feel him hovering behind her, matching her slow steps. “I think it rubbed some of my a bit raw. If I move wrong- or if you know, someone touches it- it makes it feel like someone's rubbing sand paper on my back.”

 

She steps through the door, Red right behind her, who closes and locks the door behind him.

 

“Now what is this- on second thought, you can explain it through the bathroom door. I need to change out of this shirt.”

 

“Alright, bathroom's right over there. Do you want to take something for your back?”

 

She starts moving toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind her even as she replies, “No, I'm fine. Anyway, I hate the way pain meds make me feel. I've had enough experiences feeling drugged to want to feel that way voluntarily over something this small.”

 

“Understandable, even if I'd prefer you to take some for it if you're in pain.”

 

“It's- _fuck_ \- fine, Red,” She'd made the mistake of trying to speak while carefully peeling off her shirt, and what it feels like is like she'd taken off a layer of skin along with her shirt.

 

“ _Lizzie?”_ Red's voice sounds alarmed, even through the door.

 

“It's fine, Red. Just moved wrong taking off my shirt, it's nothing.” She turns around to look get a look at her back in the mirror, gathering up her hair to get a clearer view. “Oh, _crap_ \- it's nothing, Red, nothing, just moved wrong again.” _Shit_ , while her neck had mostly escaped the impact with the grit and gravel, her back, especially her upper back, was another story entirely. Whole sections along her shoulder blades were rubbed raw with bits of dried blood and cotton sticking to it. Peeling off her shirt had mad it start to bleed sluggishly again, and between her shoulder blade across the center of her back it looked like gravel had scored dark, angry red lines along it.

 

She leans closer to mirror, trying to get a better look, and, sure enough, there was still bits of grit ground into it. It needed to cleaned and disinfected -the last thing she needed was for something to get infected because she didn't clean it well- and some parts of her back would be... difficult, if not impossible for herself to clean.

 

She reaches a hand behind her back, trying to see how much she can reach, but the stretch pulls sharply and painfully at her back, making her stop.

 

“Lizzie? Everything okay still?” Red asks through the door, and from his tone he is obviously getting tired of being stuck on the other side of the door. Well, luckily for him, she needs someone to help with her back, as it seems she can't do it by herself. She's still wearing her bra, so she's still mostly decent. And she'd be facing away from him anyways.

 

She unlocks the bathroom door and pokes her head through so she doesn't have to ask him through the door. “Yeah, Red, everything's okay. I can't reach, and I need some help cleaning up my back, and I was hoping you could come in and help?”


	2. Chapter 2

Her tentative request sounds awkward and nervous, as if she thinks she might not have the right to ask that of Red, and it sounds odd to her ears.

 

But, if she pauses to think of it rationally, does she? Red isn't here to coddle her, and it certainly _wasn't_ his job to look after her just she hadn't been quick enough in dodging. She's never been able to get a good feel on his emotions, of how he views her. Does he view her as more than a business partner, or simply a tool to be used? A tool that to take care off, look after, but be used none the less?

 

Every time he does something to make her think that they are finally on even ground, his behavior changes and makes her unsure once again. He nearly ended up _dead_ in order to save her, then he turns around and _distances himself from her?_ The man is all inconsistencies and obfuscation. It's always one step forward with him and then two steps back with side trip down the rabbit hole.

 

His constant see-sawing back and forth leaves her stumbling to figure him out, like she's on uneven ground - constantly shifting her footing around to try to find stable ground, only to find that between one foot fall and the next, he's gone ahead and changed the footing on her.

 

And yet... still she asks.

 

Red doesn't respond immediately, just gives her a slow blink as he studies her, face unreadable. _Does that mean he's surprised someone would ask Raymond Reddington to play nursemaid for them?_

 

She tries to fill the awkward silence, “I mean – you don't have, I didn't mean to-,” _Now I sound like scratched record. Stop your stuttering and get it together._ “What I mean is, I could use your help, but don't worry about it if you need to do other things. I can manage.” She moves back a step, so she has room close the bathroom door again.

 

But the door doesn't close, because Red's foot is blocking the door from shutting all the way, his arm bracing it open, although he doesn't follow through with the move and push it open. “Nonsense, Lizzie, I'm more than pleased to help you, you'll have to pardon my delay in replying, I was... momentarily distracted. Your request did surprise me, I confess, but not in a negative way.” His voice is warm, reassuring. Affectionate. “You so very rarely directly ask me for assistance. Personal assistance, that is. It – _pleases_ me, Lizzie.”

 

“ _Red..._ ” Her own voice is soft, like his, and his reassurances leave her feeling reluctantly charmed and more than a little flustered that her unease was evident enough to make Red try to reassure her.

 

“Have at least a _little_ confidence in me, Lizzie. You're going to give me a complex if you keep acting like I was raised by wolves.” Despite his words, Red's voice is still soft and warm, if slightly chiding. “Are you ready for me to come in?”

 

“Yeah – wait, no – I mean,” No, she's not ready for Red to come in and see her in just her bra. Much less see her in just her bra when she's all scraped up and bruised. But that's not what he's asking. She can well anticipate his response to that particular protest – _Lizzie, you vain, foolish girl – you probably wear less while swimming. Now, turn your back if you're going to bashful about being seen in your brassiere, I'm coming in –_ and she doesn't feel the need to check this time if she would be right. Turning her back does sound like a good idea though, as does moving forward past the mirror so that Red won't be able to see her in the reflection. Not only does it allow her some sort of modesty (The view of her back, she thinks, is hopeless to try to hide. Trying to hind it would just make him think she has hiding a worse injury from him.), it also means that Red won't be able to see her facial expressions. Red hadn't seemed to know about the near miss she had with becoming a human representation of a pancake, so hopefully she can be a little light on the detail of just exactly how she received the marks on her back. Dembe had made it sound like she was going to be there a few days – Red's reactions had confirmed that hunch – and the last thing she wanted to deal with was a couple days in close quarters with an irritated, over-protective, over-bearing Red. “Yes, okay, ready now, you can come in,” she says once she's moved.

 

She hears him enter the room, feels him pause and inhale sharply from behind her as he sees her back, and his tone s dry as he says, “Fell on some gravel, Lizzie? Did you then decide to roll around in it?” Silence, she decides, might be the best way to handle this situation, so she tilts her head to the side so she can see Red standing behind her out of one eye, and gives him her best innocent - _I have no idea what you're talking about-_ look, making sure to lift her eyebrows just the slightest amount to add a tinge of wounded surprise to the look.

 

Red doesn't look impressed over it, but the look serves its purpose. While he still looks aggravated, it's leaning more toward being fondly aggravated rather than just plain aggravated – as evidenced by the way he flicks her ear gently, and says, “That's what I thought. Now, let us see just what we have here so we can decide what to do, shall we?”

 

Liz doesn't resist the urge to poke at him, just a little, and facetiously says “Are you actually planning to include me in the decision making process, or was that an example of the royal we? I don't think I'll know what do to with myself if you start caring what I think.” She tilts her head reflectively, as if she'd just had a thought occur to her, “Probably be rendered senseless with the surprise of it all.”

 

“That would be an example of the royal we. Though, really, I must protest the assertion that I do not care what you think. On the contrary, I care a great deal what you think, my dear. I just rarely let it influence my decisions.” He motions with his finger to face forward again, and she directs an aggravated look of her own to him.

 

“Ass.” She grumbles in protest at his high handedness, but doesn't resist when his hand comes up to gently turn her head to face forward once more.

 

He chuckles dryly and she feels him move up behind, so his mouth his next to her ear (being careful, she notes, not to touch her back as he moves), and lightly brushes his hand up her arm as he says, “True, my dear, but would you really have me any other way?” in a low, chuckling rumble, lips brushing her ear as he mouthed _my dear_ and Liz inhales sharply at the touch, mouth parting in surprised arousal, her physical response to his actions shivering down her spine to curl low in her stomach before she can stop it.

 

She is, once again, _excruciatingly_ conscious of the fact that she's standing in front of Red without her shirt on. The game she's made out of distracting him – the give and take of their easy, familiar bantering – was routine enough to set her at ease. Her state of undress had been temporarily pushed to the back of her mind, at least until Red decided to step the teasing up a notch. She's never reacted like that to his teasing before, not really – certainly not so visibly. The earlier exposed and uneasy feeling she'd had earlier returns with a vengeance, exacerbated by her own heated response to his simple touch – _Had he seen it?_ –, and has her reflexively reaching over to brush her thumb against the scar on her wrist.

 

Before she can complete the action though, his hand is there, quickly reaching around in front of her to grasp her wrist and block her other hand from touching the scar he now covered.

 

“ _Red_!” She hisses at him in protest, “ _You said_ -”

 

He interrupted her, “I _said_ I wouldn't do it where other people could see. Do you see anyone else here but us?”

 

“ _And_ that you wouldn't do it needlessly just for kicks.” She says, wriggling her trapped wrist in emphasis.

 

“When have I ever...” Red tapers off as she turns her head slightly and gives him a _look_ , “Well, when have I done so, since our agreement? I've been the picture of restraint.”

 

“You've been something alright... And how is _this_ restraint?” She grumbles at him, still trying free her wrist, even though her bruised shoulder is starting to protest the movement.

 

“You think this situation doesn't call for it? Well, _Lizzie_ , you were stiffer than a nun in a brothel. How am I to clean out the grit I can already see embedded in your back if I can't even get close inspect it, much less clean it, without you nearly pulling a muscle?” Red still sounds annoyingly pleasant, using what she's termed as his _you're being an idiot, but I'll humor you_ voice – she thinks he's knows it annoys her – but there's starting to be the slightest edge to it, a hint of steel behind it.

 

“I was just surprised, I was the one to ask you in here, _wasn't I, Red_?”

 

“Good, then you can relax and let me loo– will you _**stop wiggling**_ already? Really, Lizzie _,_ twisting it isn't going to make me let go. So, relax, Lizzie, just relax, and let me take a closer look at your back.” He starts making those annoying little circles on her wrist with his thumb and she feels him gathering up her hair in his free hand.

 

She resists through three slow circles of his thumb before giving in and relaxing to his touch, head dropping forward at his urging to give him a clear view of her neck. If she were to be truthful, she doesn't actually mind when Red does this, quite the opposite. The relaxed, languid feelings he's able to evoke is stronger, quicker, and slightly different in tone than her own touch is able to bring forth, has a quiet heat that lingers around the edges. As long as he doesn't try it in public (The first time Red had attempted to do so in public, she'd ruthlessly pinched the sensitive skin between his knuckles with her other hand until he let go.), she finds it comforting and, _strictly_ to herself, enjoyable.

 

And, for once, Liz's thankful for her instinctive reach toward her scar, for the tell it creates, because it seems that he's mistaken her earlier physical reaction as simply being uneasy at having him so close while she's without a shirt. He hadn't seen her face, and the other reactions - like the way her spine had stiffened - could easily have come from surprise.

 

“Luckily, your neck seems to have escaped the same fate as your back. It's free of grit, and I don't see any scratches. Your back on the other hand...” Red trails off, then says, “move over to the right, Lizzie, I need more light.” She shifts over as he directs, a half step at first, then another one at his urging. “That's good, Lizzie, you can stop there.” She feels him lowering the hand that’s currently buried in her hair, moving her hair over her shoulder to free up a hand while at the same time keeping her hair from blocking his view. She then feels his finger carefully touching her back, feeling for swelling while thankfully avoiding the areas that feel raw and uncomfortable.

 

“Red, how does it look? I mean, I tried to look at it, but it was kind of hard to get a good look at it...”

 

“There are several small sections, toward the top of your back, where you have small pieces of gravel, grit really, embedded loosely into your skin. Other places look red and irritated. Some small sections of broken skin, with grit still stuck there. I'm guessing that's the part your shirt stuck to.” He sounds clinical as he details what he sees, and then he pauses before add, “The places with grit still stuck to it will need a fair bit of water to flush it out, and the rest of it needs to be cleaned and disinfected. The disinfectant will be easy to apply, but I do not think you will appreciate my suggestion for getting rid of the grit.”

 

No, she probably won't, especially if it's bad enough that he feels the need to preface it by acknowledging that fact. “What's your suggestion?”

 

“The shower has a detachable head. While you could use it on yourself, you won't be able to actually see whether you're getting all the grit out, and we would have to do it again anyway. The other, better option, is you can kneel, lean over the rim of the tub, and let me do it.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note at the end. Enjoy!

Liz stood absolutely still as she silently processed Red's last statement. It was... well, not as bad as she would have expected. Not that either option was really _desirable_ , but from the way Red had prefaced it, she'd expected something she'd find a bit more humiliating.

 

She gave the first option – trying to clean her own injuries herself – half a second of consideration before dismissing it outright.

 

If she thought she could do it herself, she wouldn't have called Red in here to begin with.

 

As for the second option... She shifted slightly in place, turning so she could see his face out of the corner of her eye as she turned his suggestion around in her head.

 

It was, perhaps, the best option available to her. Or, if not the the best, certainly the fastest and least painful.

 

Ten minutes, tops, and then it'd be over and done with.

 

The only downside was the rather awkward, vulnerable position she'd be in for those ten minutes.

 

“Well, Lizzie? What's it to be?” Red asked, tone easy, smooth.

 

She glanced over at the tub before firmly replying, “Not a word about this, Red, not one single word. Not now, not later, got it?”

 

“I'm hurt, Lizzie, that you wou-”

 

“ _Red_.”

 

“You're so suspicious, Lizzie, and while I would love to indulge you, I do believe we should be getting started,” He deflected as he motioned toward the tub while letting go of her wrist and stepped away from her to stand beside the tub.

 

This time, however, Liz wasn't going to let him get away with it, even if it meant confronting him face to face. “I mean it, Red, not a single word. No teasing, no poking at me to see if you can get a reaction, no bringing up up later in an argument. No more fishing for information about it from me.” She said as she moved to stand warily next to Red and frowned up at him. “Agreed?”

 

“Hmm...I have to say, that seems like a rather one-sided deal to me. You get your injuries cleaned, _and_ assurance that I won't say anything about it? I'm going to want an assurance of my own, sweetheart, to add that last part.” He leaned forward intrusively into her personal space, causing her to jerk backwards half a step before she catching herself.

 

“And just _what_ do you mean by that? You're the one that dragged me here in the first place, having Dembe show up at my home and bring me here without so much as a simple explanation. And now you want something from _me_?” She pushed the discomfort she felt over challenging Red while so unevenly dressed aside, and just focused on maintaining her firm demeanor.

 

“And you'd have spent hours at the hospital, either in the waiting room when you went to get it cleaned, or later when it got infected.” Red stepped forward so they were toe to toe, eye to eye, his eyes staring hard into hers.

 

This close to him, their height difference was even more apparent, and she fought the urge to cross her arms defensively in front of her chest. _Not gaining any ground, Liz, not while running around in a bra._

 

She begrudgingly nodded her head, “Just what assurances did you need from me, then? And don't forget, I still need an explanation about just _why_ I had to be here.”

 

“I'll explain your being here while I get your back cleaned up, and as for the other... It's very simple. I just need your assurance that until the... problem... that has popped up is over and done with, that you will follow _each_ and _every_ security precaution that give you,” he says, his tone trying to convey his seriousness.

 

Liz paused to study his face, eyes narrowing up at his, “You want _me_ to agree to follow security precautions _before_ even knowing what those security precautions are trying to address? Seriously?”

 

“Deadly serious, I'm afraid.”

 

“You'll agree to keep any thoughts you have about my back; including how I got it and anything you might want to say about it while cleaning it, and in return I'll agree to follow your security precautions for as long as this _problem_ exists?”

 

“Without arguing about it.”

 

She studied his face as she weighed her choices. It was, perhaps, the best deal she was likely to get. He wouldn't find out about nearly being crushed by the drums full of gravel, and even if he did find out, he wouldn't be able to _do_ anything about it. “And you won't try to use this problem to prolong my cooperation?”

 

“Believe me, Lizzie, when I say that this is not something I want to prolong in the least. The quicker I can take care of this problem, the better.”

 

“And I assume from the bag you had me pack that I will be staying at your safe-house until everything is settled?”

 

“That would be one of the safety precautions, yes.”

 

Liz reviewed what she knew about this unknown problem. Something that was dangerous to her, personally, otherwise he wouldn't have been so worried earlier. His reticence in informing her of the problem until she was safely contained within this grasp was also telling. Dembe could have easily informed her of the problem while on the drive over without losing any time, instead he'd had planned to wait until he had her safely within the confines of his safe-house. Then, when the opportunity presented itself, he puts off telling her until she's _literally_ within his grasp. Which implied... something.

 

Was it worry about her reaction to this problem?

 

Or... was it something in _his_ reaction to the problem?

 

She reviewed his behavior since she'd showed up at his doorstep, tried to add up the different clues he'd accidentally dropped since he'd met her on the steps.

 

Her eyes widened slightly as it occurred to her just how out of character Red's behavior toward her has been.

 

The displays had been subtle, but definitely there. _What is going through your head, Red?_

 

Coming down the steps to usher her inside could be explained by his haste to get her inside, but he'd shadowed her even after he'd gotten her inside; all the way to the bathroom, where he'd waited -not very patiently- outside the door for her.

 

And once the door had been closed, he'd sought what she could only label vocal reassurance of her presence. It wasn't like him to be so... clingy. That wasn't a word she thought she would ever attach to Red.

 

However, while understated, his behavior did denote a certain amount of clingyness on his part. _Is he maneuvering to be as close as possible to me when he opens up about whatever problem has popped up? Could discussing the problem – even thinking about the problem – really make him that uneasy?Or am I reading him wrong?_

 

It could also explain his earlier assumption that her reaction had been from uneasiness rather than arousal. Under normal, less distracting circumstances, she couldn't imagine that he'd make that mistake.

 

What she needed was more information before she could come to any firm conclusions about his behavior.

 

Red had been patiently waiting while she took the time to think through his behavior, eyebrow raised at her expectantly, so she asked “How long do you think this... problem … will last?”

 

Red paused to consider his answer, then replied, “Hopefully not more than a couple days. A week at the utmost.” His voice still sounded unerringly grave to her, and that, more than anything he'd said, confirmed that whatever the problem was, it was making him very uneasy.

 

W _hatever this problem is, its dangerous. Very dangerous._ Which meant that even if she _didn't_ agree to follow whatever security procedures he came up with, he'd simply find a way to manipulate her into following them anyway.

 

And if Red failed at mentally manipulating her in following them; he would probably just fall back on physically manipulating her.

 

 _At least this way, with the assurance that I'll cooperate, he might not be so underhanded and manipulative about it._ _Capitulate on my own terms rather than an unconditional surrender._

 

“Fine, fine, I agree. Your silence for my cooperation,” she conceded, and pushed on despite the flash of smug triumph that flashed in his eyes. “So... how do you want to do this?” She said, motioning toward the tub.

 

“You'll have to lean over into bath, so the water doesn't get everywhere. Unless you'd care to take off your pants and sit down inside of it.”

 

“Pants are staying on, Red.” She was uncomfortable enough just revealing her bra, she didn't intend to add to that by taking off her pants. Especially given what she had on underneath. While not exactly risque, they were still a little revealing side.

 

She didn't even want to try to figure out how it would hold up to being soaked.

 

“I assumed so, but I thought I would give you the option. Magnanimous man that I am.”

 

Liz let out a huff of laughter at his words, “Yeah, you're a right second coming.”

 

Red raised his hands to the buttons on his vest, and her eyes were drawn down to watch as he started unbuttoning his vest, then flitted self-consciously away again as he started on the buttons to his dress-shirt. Red had an undershirt on underneath, it wasn't like he going to be bare chested, but watching him strip down to his undershirt still seemed an oddly intimate action considering Liz rarely saw him in anything less formal than a three piece suit.

 

Red moved to drape the vest and shirt over the counter. Once he had the pair folded to his liking, spending what Liz thought an inordinate amount of time arranging them, he stepped to stand behind her; and she could once more feel the heat of body against her back.

 

“Hmm, you'll need to be on the other side, I think, otherwise the nozzle won't reach,” he said smoothly as he placed his hands on her upper arms, urging her with gentle yet ineluctable strength forward, toward the side of the tub with the faucet and shower head. “I'll let you get yourself situated.”

 

Liz dropped carefully to her knees, heat flushing her cheeks once more as she took one quick, fleeting glance behind her up at Red. His face was completely unreadable as she'd glanced up at him, and she fought the shiver that threatened crawl down her spine at the way the blank expression on his face made it seem severe. She turned her own eyes to stare at where her hands were clenched around the side of the bath. She could still feel his eyes on her; his stare making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Red?”

 

Her voice seemed to spur him into action, because he moved to sit on the rim of the tub beside where she was kneeling on the plush rug next to the bath. “Yes, Lizzie?”

 

She opened her mouth to ask him about the pause, but in end, settled on, “Nothing, just– ready, Red.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Next chapter will get to Red helping Lizzie clean up, I promise. Definitely more oblivious!Lizzie prancing around without her shirt on to test poor, tortured Red. With added water!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story, I really enjoy reading all your reviews, and about parts you like most in the story.

“I could try to figure out a non-provocative way of saying this, but I think that would take longer than it is really worth. So, please know that when I say this, I say it with the utmost respect.” He paused for dramatic effect, “Bend over, Lizzie.” Red's voice was dry with humor, and she couldn't help her own snort of laughter that slipped out, Red's over dramatization serving to break the tension in the room more than the words themselves.

 

She tried to figure out a comfortable – or rather, the least awkward – position, and, with Red's help, ended up draped across the ledge of the bath with her arms braced across from her against the ledge on the other side, her hips flush against the tub wall.

 

She felt Red reach over her as he grabbed the detachable part of the shower head while she got settled, spending a good minute adjusting the force of the spray and the temperature of the water.

 

Liz tensed slightly when he finally turned the light spray on her, anticipating pain, but the gentle, warm spray of water started lower on her back, on a section of unbroken skin. She sighed as the water ran over the sore muscles on her back. She felt the water stream in rivulets along her back until it completely soaked her bra strap in back.

 

She bit her lip to contain a flinch as the streams of water stung where they encountered broken skin, and turned her head slightly so she could distract herself in studying any facial expression Red let slip.

 

Helping someone bath was, Lizzie thought as she watched him, an extraordinarily intimate experience; both for the person being bathed, and the person doing the bathing. On her side, it demonstrated a certain level of trust and familiarity to let someone get that close – especially someone who was not a close family member.

 

On Red's side... It was a bit more difficult to figure out what it demonstrated on his part. Customarily, when one person took the time and care to help another bath (when not in a professional care setting), it typically demonstrated affection and care.

 

Red couldn't be accurately profiled using typical behavioral norms. More than half of his actions and expressions were simply a blind, an intricate distraction from what he doesn't want people around him to see. Most people reserved touch for people they were more than just casually acquainted with. Red used it instead as a weapon, a way to get people to do what he wanted, think what he wanted them to think.

 

His use of touch with her fell into both categories, both as a weapon and a manifestation of affection. Not that he touched her all that much.

 

He certainly didn't touch her casually, not like he touched oth-

 

“Lizzie?” She blinked at him as his voice jarred her from her thoughts, “You're awfully quiet.”

 

“Just lost in thought, Red,” she said, following Red's hand with her eyes as he reached to gather her hair into a bunch and twist it up out of the way.

 

“Am I so poor company?”

 

She blinked and shook her head slightly, the barest movement of her head so as to not shake her hair loose, “Poor company? No. I don't know anyone who would call you poor company.” _Exasperating and confusing, certainly, but far too interesting to be considered poor company._ “I was just...well, thinking. I didn't mean anything by it.”

 

“Oh? And just what were you thinking about?” Red raised his eyebrows at her inquiringly as he leaned over her to get a better view as he moved the gentle stream of water toward her shoulders, steadying himself by placing a warm hand lightly on her lower back.

 

“Nothing in particu- _ouch_!”She couldn't stop the way her back arched under the water as it hit the abraded skin, or the way her body tried to wiggle away from it defensively, bumping up against Red's thigh on one side than away again before she could catch and still herself. Even with the water on its softest setting, the sudden flair of pain in her back had her taking a steadying breath to help her breathe through it.

 

Red, either because of their earlier agreement or from a sudden urge to exhibit gentleman-like behavior, politely didn't point out how inelegant and childish her squirming looked, as it must have; he only withdrew the stream of water back to the safety of her lower back and waited for her to regain her composure.

 

Red's hand splayed against her back served as an able distraction from the pain radiating from her back as it started rubbing soothingly across her skin, curling intimately along her side before traveling back up to rest on the flat of her lower back for a second before repeating the action.

 

Her body relaxed into the steady rhythm of Red's touch, enjoying the steady closeness of another person (someone she had, tentatively, come to trust) after so long without it.

 

It wasn't until the tip of Red's little finger accidentally dipped lower on her back during one of his passes and insinuated itself underneath waistband of her trousers to brush lightly against the indentation low on her back, the muscles in her stomach tightening from a response completely different than pain that she decided that they'd better move on before she completely embarrassed herself.

 

She searched for something to say that would amply distract Red and, recalling that there was still an important topic to be discussed, said “Are you finally going to tell me now why you have dragged me over here without so much as a simple explanation? I believe I've been waiting quite patiently.”

 

Red visibly reacted to her verbal poke at his composure, features darkening and jaw clenching for several heartbeats before his face smoothed out into the expression he usually had whenever he was talking with her.

 

It would _almost_ be enough to be convincing if it wasn't for the slight tension she could see on his mouth –or the way his hand slid to curl around her side and tugged her over to him, eliminating the scant few inches that separated them before and bringing the side of her body flush against his leg.

 

She could practically see Red trying to figure out what to tell her – and what to keep to himself.

 

“As much as I am just simply _enthralled_ by your cryptic mystique, Red; I'd much rather have the whole thing, rather than just parts of it.”

 

His hand tightened on her side for a second before he relaxed, and gave her a small nod, “That might be for the best anyway, as distasteful as I find talking so freely about this unintended result from my own business. However... as you have become, none the less, rather _involved_ despite my best efforts to keep you from being exposed _;_ I suppose it has become your business as well and are entitled to hear it. The parts that pertain to you, at least.”

 

Well, parts of it was better than nothing. 

 

Liz shifted her head on her arms as she watched him expectantly, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

 

Red started to speak as he moved the stream of water back just above the band of her bra, and, from the lack of accompanying pain, must have been letting the water flow indirectly over her injured skin, “You remember our... encounter... a couple months back with our smuggling friends, do you not?”

 

“I'm hardly going to forget, I spent half a day lost in the sewer because of them.”

 

“Egyptian antiquities and drugs were not the only things things were smuggling,” Red had the grace to look at least _slightly_ uncomfortable about this.

 

“Oh, _really_?” Her ire started to raise as she recalled what he'd said on the subject in relation to what he had just revealed.

 

“I never actually explicitly said that that was all they were smuggling.”

 

“You just implied that they didn't have the codes, practically stated it outright and never corrected my assumptions. _You lied to me_. Lied to the FBI,” Liz said, hurt and angry and _upset_ , started to stand up, so she could better yell at Red, but was stopped by the hand holding shower head as he pressed the on the back of his hand of her head. He pinned her in place with both hands, easily riding out her struggles until she stopped, exhausted and breathing hard.

 

“I lied to the FBI, yes, but I didn't lie to you, not exactly. I just made sure you had plausible deniability for when the FBI asked about it.” He resumed stroking her lower back once she'd stopped struggling, as if being _petted_ would calm her down. Instead the perceived condescension fed into her anger.

 

“It's the _not exactly_ that has me pissed off! When will you understand that I would much rather you just _say_ you can't tell me something, rather than look me in the eye and 'not exactly' lie to me. Whatever happened to being partners, _Reddington_?” She dropped the nickname, flinging his last name at him with a bit of a sneer to go along with it.

 

“Listen, _Elizabeth_ ,” Red growled, getting right in her face, a chill creeping up her spine at the anger in his tone, “I will do _anything_ to keep you out of danger.” He visibly calmed himself, backing his face away from her – his hands still had her pinned in place – and taking several deep breaths in and out. His voice, when he started again, was calm and icy cool, “In the previous case with the smugglers, I needed something of theirs that the FBI knowing and logging into evidence would render invalid, what with their lackluster security system. I... I made the decision that it would be easier for you if you had plausible deniability for your reports.”

 

“That isn't being partners, Red, that's part of you thinking of me as some sort of pet to take care of and trot out in front of company. I am _not_ your pet, and I highly resent being treated like one. You have something you can't tell me? Fine, say so. But the reason you don't tell me something, much less _lie to my face_ , should never be 'because it would be easier for me'. _Got it_?”

 

“To be fair, that is not often the reason. However, what with everything else that had just happened, I thought-”

 

Her voice somehow managed to achieve a tone of eerie calmness as she interrupted him. “You thought that, after everything that had happened with Tom; the betrayal, the  _lying_ ? After all that, you thought the proper thing to do was lie to me!?  _Honestly?_ Let me go so I can hit you! Idiotic, aggravating man. How can someone so intelligent be so clueless?” She'd taken her eyes off of him, too angry to even look at him, and when she finally looked back at him at the end of her tirade, he looked... He looked like Liz had pole-axed him. “Really?  _Really_ ? It hadn't occurred to you that having you lie to me so soon after that mess with Tom might not be the best idea? That hearing that you  _lied to me_ , right to my face might hurt? Well, it does, even four months on, much less what I might have felt had I found out then just weeks after?”

 

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Lizzie.”

 

“Which is why I haven't tried to strangle you.” The way he looked at her had her softening slightly toward him. But she couldn't let up on him, not until he made her point. “God, Red, I just want you to treat me like I'm a rational person capable of being your partner.”

 

“I can't tell you everything that happens, Lizzie. There are secrets that I keep that I can't tell you; parts of our plans that you can't know about.” He sounded genuinely apologetic.

 

“That's part of you treating me like a rational person. I _know_ you won't tell me everything, I don't expect you to; it isn't like I tell you everything. I just don't want you to lie to my face, or that the reason you keep something important from me is that you think it would be _easier_ for me. Like I said, I want to be your partner, not your pet.”

 

“I want a partner as well. And I do think of you as a partner, even if my methods and actions do not always... demonstrate that.” 

 

Liz paused for a second, opened her mouth to start, then closed it again. Finally, she settled on simply saying “You don't often do things that make me feel like you think I'm your pet, I didn't mean to make it seem like... I have no complaints about- I, well...” She paused to organize her thoughts into something coherent. “I don't mind feeling like your verbal or mental sparing partner as well as your regular partner. And that's all I will say on the subject, Red, so I hope you got my meaning from that jumbled set of words.”

 

“...I think I have...perhaps. Disjointed as the delivery may have been.”

 

“Good. Moving on. So, our.... smuggling friends, what do they have to do with me being here? And for heaven's sake, Red, stop being so timid with the water. At the rate you're going, we'll be here for the next three hours.”

 

Red doesn't verbally respond about the water, but she knows he takes her meaning by the way he moves to let the water stream directly onto the broken skin as he says, “Our smuggling friends had friends of their own. One of which, had I known he was among their acquaintances, I would have been much more careful of. Either taken him out first, or found some other way to render him harmless. He is rather... unhealthily... obsessed with collecting Egyptian antiquities, and these smugglers were some of his main suppliers for his obsession. And the drugs, but it was the loss of the antiquities that really upset him. He is not someone who deals well with someone taking away his toys. He's rather... unstable, to put it mildly.”

 

She resisted flinching from the stream of water, and after the first fifteen seconds or so, the pain diminished, only peaking again whenever the water started to dislodge a pebble of grit from the abraded skin.“So now this guy is after you?”

 

“No, Lizzie. I did not claim any responsibility for the take down, remember? That was the FBI. Somehow, he's gotten a hold of your name, and has focused his anger on you. And while he may behave like an immature little idiot most of the time, he is quite capable of putting a hit out on your name.”

 

“My name? How did he even get a hold of it? Names weren't mentioned in any of the press releases. And a hit, seriously? Like the ones with assassins?”

 

“Yes, _like the ones with assassins_. And no matter how incompetent the person with the money may be, the people he has working with him are quite capable of carrying out his wishes. As to how he got a hold of your name I don't know, not yet. I just received the information about the hit this morning. I have people working on it.” She shivered minutely as he ran one finger across her back, just under the band of her bra, cluing her in to his next action, before his fingers slipped beneath and lifted it up slightly so the water could clean underneath it effectively.

 

He set the band back down gently as he finished there, his thumb flickering a light caress on her skin before he moved to work at different spot. “Oh. This morning? While I was out on that call?”

 

“Yes. Imagine my... disgruntlement when I couldn't locate you immediately at your home. You did, after all, go into explicit detail on just what you were planning to do on your day off. I knew you had gotten a call, but I had hoped you would be back by then. You came back shortly after that, but it was still not the most pleasant of waits. Shift a little to your side please, I'm mostly done with your back. Luckily the grit came out easily enough.”

 

She shifted as he directed, and said “You said it would take about three days, correct?”

 

“To a week, if the matter proves to be difficult. And until then, you'll be staying with me, following the same security precautions I do, as well as any additional ones I see fit.”

 

“Yes, Red, I _do_ remember that I agreed to do so. I haven't managed to forget that in the last forty-five minutes. I'm guessing that also means no work until this is over, correct?”

 

“No, that is one of the places they'll look for you when they fail to find you else where. I will simply tell them I am working on obtaining the location of someone important, and have once again dragged you along to help.” He finished, and it sounded like he was done talking about that subject. Liz was prepared to accept that, at least for now. “I've finished with your back, it just needs to dry out a bit before I put some ointment on it. What sort of night clothing did you bring? Anything loose?” He moved away from her, and she knelt up, bracing her hands against the tub as she turned her head to keep him in view.

 

“No...just my regular things.” Liz saw where he was going with this question; she wouldn't be able to wear any formfitting shirts without it rubbing uncomfortably against her back.

 

“I will locate you one of my shirts to wear then, along with your bag. I'll be right back.” He stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.


	5. Chapter Five

“Red, thanks for the...” Liz trailed off as she closed the bathroom door behind her, tugging self-consciously at the hem of the shirt Red had found her to wear – one that didn't rub against the freshly applied gauze protecting the sections of abraded skin and ointment on her back – and looked around the empty room she had expected to find occupied. “Red?” She said a bit louder. He'd left her to change in the bathroom after he'd finished taping on the last of the gauze.

 

“In the kitchen.”

 

Now that she was listening for it, there were soft sounds of someone moving about in the next room. She followed the sounds, and found Red in the kitchen.

 

Cooking.

 

_Red knows how to cook?_

 

She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching him segment an eggplant before she padded over on her bare feet to take a seat at one of the bar stools at the center island. He didn't look up as she came into the room, instead greeting her with, “I do hope a stir fry will be acceptable, I wasn't expecting-” Red took a second to glance up at her and froze, eyes widening slightly as he abruptly broke off and tilted his head slightly to the side as he looked at her. She reddened self-consciously at his stare, feeling vulnerable and pinned to her seat by his appraising look.

 

Evidently even Red reacted to the sight of seeing someone clad in his clothing, judging by the look of possessive male smugness that Red directed at her. And, for the breifest moment in time; too quick for her to be certain, she thought she'd caught a glimpse of barely constrained lust in the features of his face.

 

Before she could even blink though, it was gone, replaced as if it was never there.  _Had_ she imagined it? 

 

She glanced down, hiding her own expression; unsure about the feelings either provoked, or the sudden flush responsive heat between her legs.

 

When she looked back up again, all traces of his reaction were gone from his face, in its place the pleased, slightly bland mask directed toward her, before his attention turned back to the cutting board. He continued, “That is a good blue for you; how is your back feeling? Are you sure you do not wish to take something? Some Tylenol at the very least?”

 

She scrunched her eye brows together indecisively before deciding that the benefits of playing it safe outweighed the temporary glee she would feel about poking him about his (real or imagined) reaction. 

 

His retaliation would be swift and merciless, and as she was stuck with him for the foreseeable future, needlessly riling his predatory nature was not a safe move.

 

Fun, yes, but not  _safe_ . And while there was a heady thrill in sniping at Red until he snarled back, doing so while staying at his safe-house seemed like a less than smart idea.

 

“Some Tylenol, I guess, my back is a little sore, but its feeling much better now. Thank you for letting me borrow the shirt, Red. And for helping with my back.” _And for letting me stay here, keeping an eye out for danger, and a multitude of other things I probably don't want to know about while you try to fix this._ “Is there anything I can do to help?” Not that she was very good at cooking... but she already owed Red for countless things. The least she could do was offer.

 

Red's face was, once again, painstakingly and artificially blank as he studied her intently, and said in a thoughtful tone, “If you could finish with the eggplant, I will start on the sauce. Deseeded, with pieces one-forth an inch wide, and about an inch long.”

 

She nodded to show her understanding, and took the offered cutting board. Preparing the vegetables was, at least, something she was more than capable of doing.

 

They worked together in easy silence together, Liz chopping up the eggplant before moving on to the other vegetables while watching Red move about the kitchen with practiced ease as he pulled together the various ingredients he wanted for the stir fry.

 

It was... odd, definitely  _odd_ , to see Red acting so domestic.

 

Domestic was not a term she would have associated with Red, nor would she have thought that he would have been willing to show _anyone_ that side of him.

 

There was a contented ease to his manner all throughout preparing dinner that lasted through the meal. It allowed her nerves, which had been on edge since Red had informed her of the contract out of her life, relax a bit. Red evidently had faith in the security of his safe-house, if his demeanor was anything to go by.

 

_And_ , she thought as she recalled the evident possessiveness of his earlier reaction to seeing her in his shirt (she'd was sure that she'd seen that emotion),  _Red was definitely the sort of man to feel contentment over having a woman in his house, eating his food, wearing his clothing._

 

Surprisingly, at least to her, the possessive, proprietary nature of this didn't elicit her ire. Instead, combined with his scent enveloping her by way of his shirt, it helped sooth away the last bit of uneasiness.

 

This easy mood between them lasted until they had nearly finished eating, the light debate between them at dinner friendly and teasing, when Dembe came back with Hudson.

 

Abruptly, seconds before Dembe joined us in the kitchen, Red's manner changed to the one she was more familiar with. Calm. Cool. Collected.

 

Dangerous.

 

Red moved from his seat to talk to Dembe, and she moved to get up as well but her attention was momentarily distracted from them by the sight of her dog, tail wagging despite his exhaustion, coming up to greet her.

 

“Hudson, you good boy you, are you just now getting back?” She turned to look for something to put water in for him.

 

“There are things for your dog in the corner by the couch.” Red said, attention not breaking from whatever Dembe had brought him to look at.

 

“Is that something to do with me?” Liz asked as she moved into the other room, projecting her voice slightly as she moved away.

 

“Yes. And, before you ask, you can see it.”

 

“Wasn't going to phrase it as a question, thank you very much.” Red was not going to keep her in the dark about business that pertained to her.

 

“Your welcome.”

 

There was a pile of things for Hudson that she'd missed: bowls for water and food, a dog bed, and a container of his food, all stacked neatly into the corner. Hudson rushed forward to help himself to the water bowl, and she opened up the container to scoop some food into his dish.

 

With Hudson taken care of, she moved back into the kitchen.

 

“Thanks for the dog supplies, Red.”

 

“Oh, no need to thank me. I fully expect Hudson to earn his own way. He does have superior hearing to us, and even if he has been rather hit and miss as a watchdog in the past, he may yet come through for you.”

 

She couldn't really deny Hudson's deficiencies as a watchdog. He'd let Red pass by with nary a bark. She couldn't just let Red's defamation of Hudson pass completely unprotested though. “He barks at people outside.”

 

Red slanted her a look, “I dare say. Well, at the very least, he will be very helpful in providing a cover for Dembe while he patrols the area, even if he turns out to be completely useless as a watchdog.”

 

She glares at Red, “And what happens if Dembe sees something? Hudson is not a guard dog. He'll get hurt.”

 

“He won't get hurt, Ms. Scott. I'm not the only person on guard. If I see anything suspicious, I'll alert our team, and they will take care of it,” Dembe said.

 

She frowned slightly, but nodded her agreement. Hudson needed his walks anyway. “But not as long as today's, okay? Poor thing was exhausted. He isn't a high energy dog.”A suspicious look passed between Red and Dembe at that. “What is it?”

 

Dembe was the one who answered, stiff and concise. “Patrols are scheduled at various time, of about forty-five minutes to an hour in length. They will not be as long as today’s.”

 

“Why was today's so long?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

 

“I believe I should go be going to check in with the ones on surveillance. I shall leave you to your discussion.” Dembe exited the kitchen, and shortly after, she heard the front door open and shut. Liz turned to Red.

 

“It wasn't some nefarious plan, Lizzie. I simply wanted to have some time to tell you what was happening, and to also allow you to adjust without any distractions. That's all.”

 

He sounded truthful, so Liz nodded. “Alright. I suppose that makes sense.”

 

“Does everything I do sound like the start of some ungodly plan to you, Lizzie?”

 

“To be fair, a lot of what you do is planned, ungodly or not.”

 

“True,” Red allowed, and his demeanor gradually slid into a mixture of what he became when Dembe entered the room, and the possessive warmth from earlier, “But less so with you.”

 

“Really? I find it hard to believe. Nearly everything I've seen of you has had plans inside of plans.” She studied his face, transfixed by the change in his body language.

 

“But, my dear,” Red stepped toward her, hand coming up to caress her cheek lightly and tilt her face upward, “so much of what you choose to do surprises me that half of the time I end up just making it up on the spot. Although,” He pauses, thumb brushing her cheekbone, “I must confess, I rather enjoy that characteristic of yours.”

 


	6. Chapter Six

For one heart pounding moment, Liz thought Red was going to kiss her.  Common sense dismissed that idea in the next moment, not that her body wanted to let go of that idea. Her heart sped up to beat a steady staccato.

 

Liz swallowed hard against the dryness in her throat that that thought caused, her eyes flitting unconsciously down to his mouth before once again glancing up to meet his gaze.

 

“Am I making you _nervous_ , Lizzie?” His eyes glinted with a self-satisfied complacency that would have ground against said nerves, if his looming and uncharacteristically familiar manner of touching her hadn’t knocked her temporarily off balance.

 

Red, as rule, didn’t touch her. Not like this. He’d loom in her space, crowd her, use his presence to pressure her into moving in whatever direction he wished, but actually physically touching her was not something he did very often –certainly not while his face was close enough to hers that she could feel his words brush against her face as he spoke.

 

No, he usually touched her for very specific reasons. Hurrying her away from danger, for example, or like when she’d asked him to tend to her back.

 

He _did_ seem to like touching the scar on her wrist, but even that wasn’t like the way his thumb was brushing lightly against her cheek.

 

No, this probably fell under the first case – touching for a specific reason. What reason though, she didn’t know.

 

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounds as startled as she feels.

 

“Can you not guess?”

 

She shook her head. “I find you just as surprising as you evidently find me,” she said softly, matching her voice to his.

 

He looked pleased over something– a slight twitch of his lips upwards and more expressively displayed through his eyes – although she couldn’t guess what caused it.  His next words gave her a clue. “I’m simply… testing something.”

 

“What are you testing?”

 

“I couldn’t _possibly_ tell you.”

 

“Testing something about me, Red? Don’t you think I should know what it is you are testing if it is about me?”

 

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Another of his non-answers. He wouldn’t tell her, fine. That wouldn’t stop her from trying to find out what he would tell her.

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Can I at least assume that I passed at whatever it is that you are testing?”

 

“And why would you assume that?”

 

“You looked pleased.”

 

There was the slightest widening of his eyes, and then, if anything, he looked even _more_ pleased. The fingers stroking her face move to tuck her hair behind her ear, flitting lightly over and around her ear before threading his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head affectionately.  She has the almost bizarre sense that something has tipped, and it’s tipped _decidedly_ in her favor. She doesn’t get a chance to figure out just what has changed though, because the caress of Red’s hand on her doesn’t last more than a second more before he starts withdrawing.

 

Not completely withdrawn, not emotionally at least – his voice when he speaks is still tinged with affection – but physically he removed himself from her space to fetch the folder of papers Dembe had handed him earlier as he said, “Oh, it isn’t something you can pass or fail at, Lizzie, simply a matter of… degrees I guess. And in this, my dear, you aren’t capable of displeasing me. Worrying, perhaps, but not displeasing,” and once he handed her the folder he didn’t invade her space again.   

 

“You do love an audience to your attempts at being mysterious and vague, don’t you?”

 

“One of the few great joys in my life.”

 

Their conversation shifted to the thick folder of photos and papers. They looked through the pictures, Liz answering Red’s questions about the people in them and going over her own routines in detail since their case involving the smugglers. Their conversation was easy and companionable despite the subject matter, at least for the first couple of hours. After that, though, her day started to fully catch up with her body.

 

They had long since moved back to the kitchen table, papers and photos from the file now spread out in haphazard piles of least to greatest importance. The muscles in her upper back were starting to become stiff and sore, and while the pain from abrasions on her back stayed down at a low, manageable throb, her lower back was starting to protest the awkward straight backed sitting position the abrasions forced on her.

 

Liz struggled to continue answering his questions as fully and accurately as she could, but her answers to his questions became increasingly terse as the soreness from her body and fatigue started to make her long to simply go to bed despite the importance of identifying who had been sent after her.

 

Red was ruthlessly thorough about snipping every last bit of information from her, going over her actions and her memories of people and places multiple times to sort out what was important and drag out every last bit of information. He responded to her changing mood by altering his approach toward questioning her, and becoming almost interrogative and confrontational in style.  

 

She allowed him to continue this new approach – the information he needed to get from her was needed tonight in order to further his own investigations – and tried to surrender to his verbal machinations in order to get it over with as quickly as possible.

 

 By the time Red finally started to seem satisfied with the amount of information he’d dragged from her, she was feeling mentally frayed, close to exhaustion, and more than ready to stop.

 

“Red,” she said, voice muffled from the table she’d let her forehead drop down to on top of a picture of herself in the middle of a crowd. “I can’t remember what I was doing, or what day it was.”

 

“Just _think_ , Lizzie, you were walking through the park. All you had on you at was your purse. Did you go to buy something? Meet someone? Going to feed the pigeons?”

 

“I walk through that park nearly every day, Red. I walk there to get coffee in the morning, I go jogging with Hudson there, I eat lunch there sometimes on the weekend. _I spend a lot of time there._ ” She tilted her head up to rest on her chin so she can send a tired look. She nodded her head toward the growing number of photos of her in the park, all in different outfits; different times of days, then drops back down to rest her forehead on the table. Maybe if she’s careful, she can just close her eyes and take a quick little rest. Not fall asleep, but just rest her eyes.

 

“If you can’t remember when this photo was taken, what about the photo itself. Does anything in that stick out as odd, or anything important?”      

 

She suppressed a groan, but lifted her head to look back at the picture. “Umm...” Her eyes darted around the glossy photo. The light in the photo indicates its morning, but not so early that she’d be there picking up coffee before work from one of the little shops in the park. “On a day off for work maybe, not very recently. Haven’t worn that jacket in a couple weeks, it’s been too warm.” That will at least give him a better time frame to check the security cameras in the area to see who’d been tailing her that day. If the footage in them went back that far. She dropped back down to her forehead.

 

“Nothing else stands out?” She shook her head without lifting her forehead from the table. “ _Look at it, Lizzie_.” His firm tone brooked no arguments. That didn’t stop her from mumbling disparaging comments about him as she did so.  “Well?”

 

She shook her head again, “Nothing stands out, not outright at least. Now, please, can we stop here? Stop back up tomorrow? We’ve been at this for hours.”

 

He took a minute to study her closely before nodding reluctantly. He started gathering up the papers, and, seeing an end in sight, she started to help him. “Are you fine sleeping in the shirt, or do you want me to find something else?”

 

“It’s fine. So, where am I sleeping then? Is there a guest bedroom here? Or am I on the couch?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lizzie. I’m not going to put you on the _couch_.” He shoots her a sharp, insulted look.

 

“Oh, um, of course not. So the guest bedroom, then?”

 

“No. You’ll be sleeping in my room. Sleeping in my bed to be precise.” He had the gull of looking decidedly _pleased_ once more as he said this. More of the proprietary, possessive behavior from earlier? _Next he’ll be asking to tattoo his name on me. Should have called him on his earlier behavior. Give Red an inch, and he’ll use it as an excuse to justify a mile._

 

“Oh, really? And what gives you that idea?”

 

“Security measure.”

 

 _Security measure my…_ “What security measure could possibly include me having to sleep in your bed?”

 

“My room is the safest in house.”

 

Oh. Guess it could be one then.  He didn’t have to look so god-damned _smug_ about it though. What was there to be smug about anyway? It wasn’t like he’d be in the bed with her.

 

Wait. He wouldn’t… She took another look at the smug, slightly devilish expression on his face. She felt a flush creep up her neck.  “And where will you be?”

 

“In my bed, of course, with you. How else will I make sure you stay safe? We have to stick close together.  Now, Lizzie, remember our deal, no complaints about security measures.” His mouth twitched upwards in a self-satisfied little grin.

 

“But.. _Red_!” She growled.

 

“Oh, relax, Lizzie.” He turned her around and gave the small of her back a gentle push. “Go on, I’ll join you in a bit. I know you’re tired. It’s the door to the left of the bathroom.”

 

She shot one last wide eyed look over her shoulder at him before moving forward, making her way to the door he’d indicated.

 

She could work with this. They’d both be fully clothed. Even if she cuddled up to him in her sleep – strictly for warmth, of course – it wasn’t like he’d blame her for it.

 

He’d just tease her mercilessly about it for months. She hugged herself, and then shook herself.

She wasn’t some teenage schoolgirl to get flustered over being in bed with a guy.

 

It wasn’t even like she’d really be _in bed_ with him. Sure, physically she’d be there next to him, but it would all be _platonic_. She’d be in bed with him in the literal sense, not what was customarily insinuated by the phrase ‘in bed’.

 

_Seriously, give him an inch, and he grabs that mile right out your hands without so much as a by your leave._

 

She paused at the closed door to his room. She’d never actually been inside any of the rooms he considered his. What would his room look like? Bare and Spartan, or lavish and elegant?

 

She jumped and gave a tiny, strangled squeak when a hand appeared out of nowhere to brush past her side and gripped the door knob.

 

“I do believe the door has to be open for us to go through. Do you have a particular side you wish to be on?” He turned the door knob and pushed open the door, and she got her first look at his room.

 

It was decidedly masculine in style, elegantly done up in while and black tones. In the center of the room was a sturdy four poster bed in black ebony, with an elegantly carved slotted bedframe.

“Sides? Left I guess. Doesn’t really matter either way though.” _Been sleeping in the middle of the bed lately._

 

Red moved past her as she took the time to study his room; the matching black ebony upholstered chairs, wardrobe, and dresser. The masculine effect was softened slightly by the cream colored plush rug that covered most of the floor.

 

“If you’re done examining my bedroom, I thought you were quite desperate to get some sleep. If you find that you’re recovered, we can always go back to reviewing information.”

 

Her eyes widened and Liz hurried to say, “No-no-no-no, I’m coming. Very tired, I was just look- I’m still tired.” She turned to face him fully, and tilted her head at what she saw in his hands. “Why do you need a laptop?” It looked rather… out of place in his hands. She’d never pictured him using a laptop a laptop.

 

“I, my dear, still have work to do.”

 

“But…why do you have to be in here do to it?”

 

“Besides the fact that I would rather keep you close for the time being, I’ll probably have questions I’ll need to ask while doing so. I’d rather not have to make the trip back and forth. No, I’ll just work next to you on the bed. It will be more comfortable anyway.”

 

“Oh.” So he’d be waking her up multiple times during the night. Great. Even better.

 

 Assassins, Red acting weird (or at least weirder than usual), her back a mess, and being woken up multiple times just to be asked questions.

 

This was going to be an absolutely _fabulous_ weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this finished and uploaded! Busy week at school and Red wanting to naughty, naughty things to Liz made this chapter extremely difficult to get finished. Hope you liked it!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So, I’m not sure how people will take this chapter, whether they will like it or hate it. Please leave a note saying if it came off okay. I’m also not sure if this chapter stuck to the teen rating. I don’t think it reached anywhere near M rating, but let me know if it did.

_Chapter Seven_

 

It was still dark when Liz woke up the next morning, drowsy and slightly aroused, although with the lack of windows in the room the earliness of the day was more of an obscure feeling than a concrete fact.

 

She blinked in a befuddled manner, eyes fuzzy and unfocused, as she lifted her head to search through the darkness of her room for the clock. The clock was not where she expected it to be.

In fact, nothing in her room was where she would have expected it to be. Her clock was missing, the lights that typically came in through her windows were absent, and the familiar smell of her bed had been replaced by something that made her feel… safe, and somehow pleased.

 

Her sleep fogged brain struggled to fit the disjointed pieces of information it was receiving into a picture that made sense before it gave up and simply wallowed in contented drowsiness.

 

The room was colder than Liz liked, causing her to curl closer around the source of warmth she was laying on top of with a small hum of pleasure.

 

It wasn’t until her sleep muddled brain decided the best course of action was to simply go back to sleep, and was nuzzling her face back down against her pillow, that her brain connected the unique combination of scents surrounding her to a memory.

 

Red.

 

_Red._

 

Her mind seemed to stall on that thought, coming to sudden awareness (the price on her head, climbing into Red’s bed to sleep) as she started to catalog what her body was telling her.

Red was on his back, still asleep judging by the steady rise and fall of his chest, and she was curled up on her side half on top of him with her head right underneath his to press against the side of his neck. Her arm was draped across his chest, fingers curled familiarly around his side, while her other arm was tucked underneath her.

 

His hands were in much less innocent positions.

 

Much, _much_ less.

 

He had the arm she was nearly laying on top of curled around her (just missing the sore parts of her back, she noted), keeping her tucked closely to his side,  and his hand was loosely cupped around her breast.

 

His other hand, though, was the one that she thought had woken her up. It was curled intimately around the underside of her of her upper thigh, with fingers just brushing the juncture between her legs. An inch over and she’d gain first-hand knowledge of what it felt like to have Red touching her clitoris through the fabric of her sleep pants.

 

And his fingers were _not_ keeping still.

 

They weren’t moving, not exactly, the pads of his fingers were brushing against her just firmly enough that she could feel his light touch through her pants, but it was enough to tease parts of her into tingling awareness.

 

She squirmed –figures he’d be a teasing bastard even in his sleep– and froze in place when the hands on her twitched in response.

 

Had he been woken by her movement?

 

But no, the only movement after the initial twitch was a slight tightening of his hand around her thigh; his breathing was still deep and easy.

 

Still asleep then.

 

For now at least. _Better try to disentangle myself before he wakes up._ The last thing she wanted to deal with was trying to explain _this_ to Red.

 

Because it wasn’t _her_ side of the bed they were curled up on, it was _his_.

 

His side – meaning at some time in the night she’d migrated over to him, and curled around him.

_Please, **please** let him already have been asleep for that._

 

The last thing she wanted to have to explain was why she’d draped herself all over him.

She carefully started to slowly ease herself away from him –then, once again, froze in place as Red groaned in disgruntled protest.

 

She glanced apprehensively up at his face, just visible in the darkness of the room by the faint glow the lights of the sleeping laptop on the nightstand put out.

 

Eyes still closed, so still asleep. _Or at least_ , she thought as she watched his eyes twitch in the manner of someone just starting to wake up, _still mostly asleep_. His eyebrows were drawn together discontentedly; line forming between them, and a slight frown forming on his mouth.

She willed her body to relax against him in hopes of assuaging whatever worry had broken through to his dreaming mind in her attempt to move away and lull him fully back to sleep.

His next actions put an end to her wait and see policy.

 

Whatever was going through his sleep dazed brain caused him to gather her closer to him, pulling her body fully on top of his.

 

Her new policy acting like she was still asleep. She wasn’t quite sure where she would go from there, but when he fully woke up – and judging by his altered breathing rate it he was already well on his way there – Liz didn’t want to have the conversation of just how she’d gotten over onto his side.

 

She willed her body to stay soft and pliant in his arms, doing her best impersonation of a sleeping person. Liz could do a passable impersonation of one, but she didn’t think it would hold up under Red’s scrutiny if he spent time to study her. Something else had to happen;  some other factor that would distract him and make him retreat.

 

Now she only had to think of that something.

 

His hands had migrated to wrap around her hips after he’d pulled her fully on top of him, her legs slightly spread and entwined with his, and a slight movement from the body beneath her brought the core of her into abrupt contact with something hot and solid. She let out involuntary little moan at the contact, before biting her lip nervously to keep herself from making any more noise while she waited to see if he’d woken.

 

It may have been a while since Liz had been in bed with a man, but it certainly hadn’t been long enough for her to forget what _that_ was.

 

She should just continue to fake being asleep. This was the extra factor that could keep him from figuring out she was awake.

 

It would certainly make him retreat from her once he woke up; Red wasn’t the sort of man to consciously take advantage of a sleeping woman, especially not one he considered to be under his protection. And, if she’d read him right, when he woke up in that sort of situation, he’d do his best to extract himself while not waking her up.

 

 The last thing he’d want to do was wake her up; for her to view his loss of control of the actions of his body.

 

And a man as in control as Red was _would_ view it as a loss of control for his body to seek out pleasure from her body while still asleep.

 

Really, she’d be doing both of them a favor. They’d both save face. He would think she was asleep the whole time, thereby missing his lapse of control, and she wouldn’t have to be teased about being overly cuddly in her sleep.

 

It was a win-win situation.

 

She managed to wrangle back the whimper that threatened to escape her lips when his hips rocked gently against hers, connecting against her clit through her pants, rubbing the fabric against her in a manner that had her trembling, but couldn’t stop the slight unconscious movement her hips made to try to extend that contact. Heat started flushing through her body to curl low in her belly.

Red’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as his arousal picked up, no doubt in response to whatever imaginary female his brain was conjuring up to take into account the her warmth in his arms and on top of him.

 

She could tell the exact moment he came fully to awareness, hand trailing up the bare skin of her spine as it bunched up the back of her shirt to make way for his hand and midway through rocking his hips against her once again, because he froze in place and stayed absolutely still, not even breathing as awareness came to him.

 

Liz could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he evaluated the situation, and she continued to do her best to feign sleep.

 

A single, shamelessly wicked idea came to her then; something so unlike how she usually behaved around him that it would certainly convince him that she was still asleep.

 

Liz held back a mischievous grin and twisted her hips against his in lazy, sleep filled manner; rubbing against his hard on against the heat between her legs.  Liz followed up this up with moving like she was stretching in her sleep, and let out the whimpering moan that wanted to escape.

 

For once in their acquaintance, Red did exactly as she wanted him to. Liz heard the impact of his head against the pillow as he threw his head back and let out a strangled curse, his hands flying back to her hips to keep them still.

 

She feels Red take a deep breath before he begins to move her off of him, slowly and carefully inching her body over until he can slide out from under her.

 

The sleepy, protesting moan she let out was only half faked; with his absence the coldness of the room was seeping back in around her. She curled up on her side in the section of warmth his body left behind, but it was still nothing compared to the furnace of heat that Red himself put out.

 

She felt the blanket move as he stayed in the room just long enough to draw them up over her shoulders, taking a bare moment to run his hand up her arm over the blanket before he was moving away from her to pick up the laptop from the nightstand, and then quietly opening then closing the door behind him.

 

Liz blinked in the total darkness of the room. The bed seemed strangely lonely without Red there with her, and the shadows of the room seemed darker and more nefarious than they had seemed with Red there.

 

It was the first time she had felt truly alone since finding out that someone had hired people to kill her. Even when she’d been alone in bathroom to change into the clothing Red had found for her one single call from her would have had him coming back to her. Her ruse here denied Liz that privilege, and felt, rather childishly and unfairly, like Red had abandoned her.

 

He hadn’t, Liz knew that intellectually if not emotionally. If she were in danger, she could call out for help and he would come.

 

But she couldn’t ask him to come back and talk to her until the uneasy feeling went away again, nor she fall back asleep to the sound of him typing as she had the night before. And, it occurred to her with a twinge of guilt, Red had gotten even less sleep than she had last night. He’d stayed up to work on things to keep _her_ safe, invited her into his house to keep _her_ safe, and how had she repaid him?

 

By manipulating him and chasing him out of his own bed.

 

Red could go back to sleep in the guest bedroom, true, but Liz didn’t think he would. Red didn’t seem like someone who fell asleep easily, and now that he had awoken would probably stay awake.

 

Maybe she should have just moved his hands back onto safer parts of her body, and gone back to sleep.

 

Red would have gotten to sleep more, and Liz would have gotten to keep Red, whom her brain had evidently turned into some sort of irrational security blanket. Being teased just because she liked to cuddle in her sleep wasn’t that terrible a thing.

 

Not that Liz could do anything to change it now. Trying to do so would only embarrass the both of them, and most likely anger Red when he weaseled the truth out of her.

 

No, best to try to make it up to Red later in the day, even if he didn’t know Liz was trying to make it up to him. Get him to take a nap at some point, for starters.

 

For now though, there was nothing she could do.

 

 Liz grabbed onto the pillow Red had been using, pulling it close to her and curling around it, letting the sent lingering on it sooth parts of her uneasiness away before closing her eyes to try to go back to sleep. Liz had a couple more hours before she could go seek out Red again, and she might as well pass trying to go to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So that is the end of chapter seven. Absolutely NOTHING happened, just Lizzie quietly freaking out over having a hit out on her, and trying to deal with it by directing those feelings at other things. Poor Red catches the brunt of it.
> 
> Will Red find out about her little ruse? What will he do if he does?


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
   
Red was yelling. The loud, angry tones of his voice could clearly be heard through the wood paneling of the door, even if Liz couldn’t quite make out the words.

She’d still been sleeping when the sound of his raised voice had startled her from sleep. For a second, in her sleep fogged state, she’d thought that Red had been yelling at her. Then she realized that his voice wasn’t coming from inside the room.

Had she ever heard Red yell before? She’d rarely heard him raise his voice, much less yell.   
And I thought the way Red usually expressed anger was alarming. Quietly fuming Red has nothing on this one, Liz thought to herself as she got out of bed.

There was a pause in the yelling, and then roughly fifteen second later started back up again.  
On the phone perhaps? She wasn’t hearing any responses, although Liz supposed they could be so frightened by the sight of Red yelling that they couldn’t speak.

Now that she was sure his ire was not directed at her, her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the door to cautiously peak her head out. 

No one but Red in the room, and so she stepped fully into the living room; making sure to make some noise so Red would know she was here.

Hudson was gone again, as she figured. He’d have started howling in concert with Red if he’d been here, and she assumed Dembe must have taken him out for ‘patrol’.

Red barely acknowledged her as she entered the room, sending the barest hint of a nod in her direction while yelling into his phone. Liz rolled her eyes in response, and mumbled “Raised by wolves…” under her breath as she made her way into the kitchen.

Liz felt much better after a couple hours of sleep, emotionally as well as physically. The pain in her back was merely dully sore, and sleep had given her subconscious time to work through the upheavals of yesterday so that she felt much calmer and assured.

The same could not be said for Red though, if the volume of his yelling was any indication. 

Was it tiredness or sexual frustration feeding into his ill-temper? Most likely some of both, although she supposed he was much more used to dealing with and working through feeling tired than frustrated.

She’d started fixing herself a simple breakfast of eggs and toast – also getting out enough from the fridge for Red on the slight chance he hadn’t eaten yet – when Red, evidently finished up on the phone, came into the kitchen.  
   
She looked over at Red as he walked in and greeted him a friendly “Good morning,” and wasn’t entirely surprised when his response was curt. 

“Morning,” he replied, and while it wasn’t exactly… friendly… he did seem to be making an effort toward at least not scowling at her. Liz had the barest scruples again saying what she said next, but really, it was too easy of a shot to pass up. 

“Sleep okay, Red?”

“I slept fine. Why?” He took the plate of food she offered with a slight nod of thanks.

Too easy. “You just seem rather irritable today. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” She made sure to pitch her question to seem non-consequential. Sure, she’d been the one on the wrong side of the bed, but how often was she able to tease him? 

This time, he did scowl at her. She managed to hold back every trace of her amusement behind her slightly confused poker-faced, and said “Was it something I said?”

Something in her manner or voice must have tipped him off to her teasing though, because his irritated expression became tinged with suspicion. Liz hadn’t even been up for a half an hour, and he was suspicious. 

“No, of course not, Lizzie. I simply had to deal with a couple of complete idiots over the phone, and I seem to have a rather short temper today. I don’t mean to take it out on you.” His voice was smooth, all traces of negative emotion wiped from his face, and seemed oddly… intent. 

Rather like a shark smelling blood in the water, Liz thought, but only said, “Had you eaten already? I wasn’t sure, so I…” She trailed off; motioning to the plate he had taken from her. 

He looked down at the plate of toast and eggs, then back at her. “You don’t cook often, do you?”

It was her turn to scowl at him. Liz reached to take back his plate with a frown, “You don’t like it; don’t eat it. Hudson can eat it. He’d be thrilled to eat it. He likes what I cook.” Last time she tried to be nice. Sure, it wasn’t elegant or anything like that, but she had remembered how he took his eggs from the last time they’d had breakfast together.

He held his plate protectively closer to his chest. “That is not what I mean. It seems I am not the only one who is prickly today.” He eyed her curiously, “It was simply an observation. Perhaps an ill-worded one, but I simply meant that this is the one of the first times I have ever seen you cook anything. The first time you’ve cooked something for me certainly. So, as I said. You don’t cook often.”

“Oh.” She poked self-consciously at her own food. Had she over reacted? Liz didn’t think she had, but maybe she was still a little emotionally off balance from yesterday and last night. “No, I guess I don’t, not really. Don’t have the time usually, and I’m not really a big fan of cooking.”

“As I thought.” Red paused, thought for a second then continued, “Which is what makes you deciding to cook for me now so interesting…” Red tilted his head as he studied her. “I do believe the last time I saw you cook anything it was as an apology for when you thought you’d done something wrong. So… Now the question I ask myself is, what is it that Lizzie thinks she’s done wrong this time?”

Shit. He got all that, from me simply making him breakfast? I should have just stayed in bed. “Maybe I was just being nice.” 

“Could be,” Red allowed, inclining his head toward her. “But if I’ve read you correctly, you attach a great importance to the making of meals. You may buy something pre-made as a gesture of being nice, but cooking something by your own hand means something a bit more to you than that. Your adoptive father wasn’t much of a cook, was he?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just continued his reading of her. She felt her back stiffening in response, uneasy at being subjected to being analyzed, especially not in regards to her past, and in the direction of this conversation. “You had to cook for yourself most of the time, but the times when he did try, as a thank you or an apology, made the attempt seem that much more important. Didn’t it?”

Liz blinked at him, caught completely off balance. She’d never quite connected it that way, but in a way, it did make sense. “Even if that were true, I could just be thanking you for letting me stay here.”

Red let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, Lizzie, no, that just won’t do. If anything, you think you’re just humoring my over-protective alpha-male type behaviors. No, this firmly in the apology category I think. So, now we are back to the original question I asked myself. Just what did my Lizzie do that she thinks she should apologize for?”

It was then that Liz noticed something about him.

 The artificial calmness in his attitude seemed thin and forced, like something more brewing beneath the surface. Liz was fairly certain that Red had figured out she hadn’t been as asleep as she’d feigned, although she’s not quite sure how he’d pieced it together so fast. And even if he had figured that out, Liz can’t help but think that, based on the way he was slowly simmering to a meltdown, some of the conclusions he made based on that out were false.  

As much as Liz would rather not cause a confrontation as this point – she had rather liked the ease they’d had with each other over dinner, and a confrontation would likely set that on its head – that really wasn’t a choice she wanted to make. 

Allowing Red to continue in whatever misconceptions he had would only be worse in the long run, and then inevitable confrontation would be under Red’s terms rather than her own.

And there was a part of Liz that was very interested in seeing Red direct all that fierce intensity towards her.

 

8_____8______8_____8_____8_____8______8______8_____8_____8______8_____8____8

 

The explosion, when it came ten minutes later just after they had both finished eating, was exactly as she had predicted. Red was deadly calm, possessive, and every bit as confrontational as she expected. Expecting it didn’t make dealing with Red when he was like this any less unnerving, though; especially when it was directed solely at her. 

Or any less captivating.

“Is that what you were hoping for? For me to lose control and leave you blameless in the whole affair? That by laying there feigning sleep you could push the responsibility of whatever happens off onto me? Play the part of poor, innocent little Lizzie taken advantage of advantage of by the big bad criminal?” Red said as he stalked forward, his voice a low, threatening growl and his eyes practically sparked with barely contained heat. Liz’s eyes grew wide with shock and she stumbled back against the counter as she tried to evade his predatory behavior. Before she could retreat further, or refute his claims; Red was just inches from her and bringing his hand up to her face. His hand possessively stroked her cheek then shifted the back of her neck, tangling his hand in her hair before tugging her head back to bare her throat to him. Then, all she can focus on was the way he's pressed her against the counter, holding her still with his body as he nuzzled her throat, scenting her as if she were his prey. Liz can feel his lips against her throat, the barest threat of teeth hinted as he demanded, “Well, Lizzie? Was it?”  
   
Liz was too shocked to respond immediately, stunned by the sudden change in his mood and by the firm evidence Red has pressed against her of just how thin his control is, but Red nipping her throat demandingly has her shaking her head and scrambling past the shock, desperate to respond, “What? No, Red. It wasn't- I wouldn't- It wasn't like that!”  
   
Red pulled back from her slightly, inches from her face and eye to eye with her as he studied her face. When Liz tried to look away from his intense stare, the hand on the back of her head tightened its grip warningly on her hair, which had her eyes darting back to his face, even as she felt her cheeks begin heat up at what he can no doubt read on her face. His grip gentles when her eyes meet his once again, but his tone cloyingly fake as he coaxes, “No? Then how was it, Lizzie?” When she didn’t answer right away, he growled at her, eyes narrowing dangerously, and then he's nose to nose with her, “Tell me. Now, Lizzie!” he demanded firmly. She felt each word in the puff of air that accompanied his words against her lips.   
   
She shook her head stubbornly in answer, breathless, eyebrows furrowing in determination even as her cheeks flushed darkly, stomach tightening with something other than fear. Normally, when she had Red this riled up, she starts trying to appease him, calm him down, bring him back from the edge. Because while she knew Red would never hurt her (has known that practically from the beginning), an angry, determined Red is a dangerous Red, one she has never been quite sure how to handle. So, while it sent enticing shivers down her spine to see him like this, before she had always refrained from poking at him, always resisted that little reckless part of her that says pushing him over would be a thrill.

But right now? 

Right now, she wanted indulge that reckless part of her that says poke at him, it’ll be fun. Liz wanted to hear him make that same strangled half growl he’d made on the bed right before wrenched himself carefully away from her and fled to the other room. 

She wanted to make him loose control.

Because, frankly, she was tired of being the only one to lose it.

“Lizzie...” 

It gave her a dangerous kind of thrill to pause and make an obvious show out of thinking about it, to tap a single finger contemplatively against her chin before giving him a short and to the point, “No.” 

He looked shocked at her refusal. “What do you mean, no?”

“It means, why should I always have to tell you everything that is on my mind? You never share what's on yours, so I don't see why I should have to. I said I wasn't playing a part, be satisfied with that.”

“I could drag it out of you.”

Liz scoffed at him, “Oh, please. What are you going to do? Torture me?” 

“Oh, Lizzie...” He chuckled dangerously, smugly, and tugged her head back and to the side once more, exposing the line of her neck to him. Seconds later, she felt his breath at her throat as he chuckled again, and then the bite of his teeth as he dragged his teeth lightly against her skin right underneath her ear, and a startled breath escaped her as she trembled against him. “What ideas you have... Torture? Hmmm...Not to worry, my dear... Only in the most exquisitely pleasurable of ways.”  
 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take notice of the change in rating. Between this chapter and the next, it certainly earns an explicit rating.

_Chapter 9_

 

Liz shivered at the dark promise in his voice, various scenarios of what Red could mean by ‘exquisitely pleasurable’ vying for priority in her mind.

 

He nipped her sharply at the skin right below her ear, making her squirm against him as he soothed the skin with the press of his lips before he trailed his mouth up to her ear. Liz tensed at the sensation of teeth on cartilage of her upper ear, but he kept the pressure of his teeth light and teasing. In a low, rumbling voice that Liz was coming to be very fond of he said, “You were playing a very dangerous game this morning, Lizzie, if you weren’t hoping to provoke me into acting.”  His arms moved to either side of her, braced against the counter and effectively boxing her in. His voice dropped to a soft murmur, “Do you know what I would have done? What I wanted to do when I woke up to find you trembling on top of me and making those pleading little moans at me?” He rocked lightly against her, hinting at what his words implied.

 

She attempted to move against him, dropping her chin down so she was cheek to cheek with him and pressing her body against his, seeking relief from the way her body flushed heatedly in response, but stilled at his growled warning. Frustrated at the way her body was obeying his and the lack of relief for the desire coiling low in her stomach, Liz snapped back, “I don’t know, talk me to death, maybe? Talking seems to be all you are good at.”

 

Red chuckled at her, nosing the underside of her jaw, and her body is irritatingly responsive to his gentle demands. The muscles in her neck relaxed of their own accord, and allowed Red to easily nudge her head back. His tone was infuriatingly condescending and smug as he said, “Good girl, Lizzie, your body knows what to do, even if your mouth is still hell-bent on getting you into trouble. And no, Lizzie, there certainly _wouldn’t_ have been any talking involved.”

 

“I’ve yet to see any evidence of that, Red.” Despite her defiant words, she’s nearly breathless with arousal already.

 

“Oh, you’ll get your evidence. The only question is _how_. Last chance, Lizzie, to tell me your reasons behind your provocative little game this morning. Then, I’ll reward your _good behavior_ by showing you just what I would have done this morning. If you instead decide to continue in your defiance, you’ll still find out…” His voice trailed off as Red moved his mouth to whisper directly into her ear, “but it will be by the _very_ slow route.”

 

 _The slow route?_ She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. “Oh? And what does that mean?” 

Liz placed her hands lightly on his waist, dragging the pads of her fingers along his sides to slip underneath his untucked shirt, and was pleased by the tremor that ran through his body in response.  Provoking Red was rather like standing too close to a fire on a cold night; there was always the danger of getting burned, but the intoxicating nature of the heat outweighed the danger of it. “I mean, for all your _talk_ you haven’t even kissed me yet. Can’t get much _slower_ than that,” Liz said, enunciating the words _talk_ and _slower_ like they were insults. “So I can’t say that I feel any more motivated to yell you anything.”

 

“I was rather hoping that would be your answer. And, because you asked so nicely, I believe we’ll start out with that kiss.”

 

Liz opened her mouth to retort that she _hadn’t been asking, thank you very much_ , only to find her words swallowed up by Red’s mouth as he pressed his lips against hers. Liz would have expected the kiss to match his demeanor, to be possessive and demanding and fierce, and while the kiss was certainly possessive, it was soft and sensual. He kept his mouth firmly closed, and the kiss might have been considered chaste if it wasn’t for the way his hands on her were fueling the desire coiling within her. He had one hand cradling her neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin along her chin, while his other hand was creeping up under the hem of her shirt to explore the skin around waist. Liz tried to deepen the kiss, nipping demandingly on his bottom lip and reaching up to drag her fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck to pull him closer to her. She growled out her frustration at him when he resisted her attempts. Soft kisses were all well and good, but right now she was ready for something a bit more vigorous.

 

He broke the kiss momentarily to let out an infuriatingly self-satisfied chuckle, and murmured “Slow, Lizzie, slow. This is a marathon, not a sprint,” against her mouth. Red dragged his thumb against her bottom lip teasingly.

 

 _Infuriating bastard_. Somehow, Red had managed to wrestle what little control over the situation she’d managed to gain away from her. Time to see if she couldn’t knock him off balance once again, at least a little. Liz narrowed her eyes at him, and the slightest twitch of her lips was the only warning she gave him before she boldly reached down with one hand to press the heel of her palm against the hard line of his cock through his pants, her fingers tightening around width of him in a teasing touch of her own. The strangled, half choked off sound of her name hissed out through his lips was ample reward, and she gave him a smug little grin of her own. “Oh, really? Somehow, I don’t think you are in the right sort of shape to go for a marathon, Red.” She paused theatrically. “I’m afraid you might find yourself tiring a bit _prematurely_ , if you catch my drift.” Liz made sure to drag out the syllables of the word prematurely, and coupled it an eyebrow raise.

 

Red scowled at her in response, bending forward to nip her sharply on the jaw. He grabbed her wrists; one grasped tightly in each of his, and pressed her hands to curl tightly around the edge of the slightly higher than waist height counter top. “Move your hands, my dear Lizzie, and you’ll find yourself having to wait until tonight to achieve any… satisfaction.”

 

She stilled, mouth audibly clicking shut as she took in the meaning of his words. He wouldn’t, would he? Leave her like this? Red was just as aroused as she was. Liz drew her head back slightly so she could take in his full facial expression. Red looked unusually serious. _And he is just the sort of person to deny himself if it meant he gained something._ “And just how do you mean to enforce that?”

 

“Believe me, Lizzie. I can be _very_ creative when I put my mind to it. You made your choice earlier not to take the easy way out, now you have to deal with the consequences.”

 

She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together in response to the sudden flush of heat between her legs. Being trapped against the counter this way, with Red’s solid form boxing her in was sending fresh spikes of desire through her with every brush of his body against her, to say nothing of the way her body reacted to his voice. What to do now…she certainly didn’t want to have to wait until tonight, it wasn’t even noon yet, but neither did she want him to win entirely. Liz settled on simply saying, “Well, if you would actually _do_ something, maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to try to move things along.” In a quieter, mockingly sweet tone just loud enough for him to hear she said, “It is not my fault if a simple touch had you almost coming in your pants.” But she made sure to keep her hands firmly on the counter-top.

 

Her reward was seeing Red lose control, just the slightest bit, as he snapped out in annoyance, “ _Lizzie_ , there is _nothing_ wrong with my stamina!”

 

 _Jackpot._ 2 nd attempt at aggravating male pride was a direct hit. “There’s no reason to be so defensive about it, Red. Lots of men have that problem.”

 

He drew a breath, calming himself, and then chuckled dryly. Red leaned forward to press his lips to hers in quick, possessive kiss before he said, “Lizzie, Lizzie, _Lizzie_. Sometimes you can be delightfully conniving. However, no matter how you attempt to gain control by manipulating me into ‘proving my manhood’ with decidedly _false_ insinuations against it, you will not provoke me into _moving things along_. On the contrary, your attempts are rather counterproductive; as they simply make me want to watch you squirm _that much more_.”

 

 Liz opened her mouth to retort, only to break off in a moan as Red lightly traced his fingers against the section of her sleeve that hid the scar on her wrist from view. The slide of the shirt material and the light, teasing touch combined to send tremors over her body. “Cheater,” she gasped out.

 

“Just saving you from digging yourself into a deeper hole, my dear. There’s a limit, even for you, my dear.” Red took hold of her mouth once again, the touch of lips shallow and teasing, before his eyes travel down her body. He hummed appreciatively. “Have I told you how much I _like_ you in my shirt? Not, perhaps, as much as I’d like you _out_ of it, but still…”

 

“No… I don’t think you’ve told me that,” Liz moaned as he added the sensation of his thumb brushing lightly against one of her nipples to the distraction his touch on her wrist provided. Her knees trembled threatening to buckle from the combined touches. 

 

“Feel how responsive you are, Lizzie? I’ve barely even started and you’re already squirming like I’m inside you.” He nipped gently at her neck, the barest hint of teeth, and then applied a string of open mouthed kisses along the side. “Has it been so long for you? Just let yourself relax and feel it.”

 

“I don’t like teasing – especially the prolonged kind. It just gets boring.”

 

“If it was boring, Lizzie, it wasn’t done right.”

 

Liz chewed on her bottom lip, using the slight pain the action caused to help ground her thought so she could assess the situation rationally.  _Would_ it be so bad to just let herself relax and feel it? It wouldn’t precisely be giving in… it would be more like biding her time in a graceful manner. Even if it did become boring, it wasn’t like she couldn’t entertain herself by offering commentary on his technique.

 

Mind made up, at least for now, Liz relaxed the muscles in her neck and willingly tilted her head back just far enough to physically signal her acquiescence to him.

 

Red responded by humming in a decidedly pleased manner into her neck as he continued exploring her neck with his mouth.

 

He moved both hands to her hips, the hand on her wrist trailing up arm then down her side till it rested on her hip, while the hand on her chest caressed its way down her torso till it reached her hip. Red tightened both hands, the action her only warning before Liz found herself being lifted up to sit upon the kitchen counter-top. Liz remembered, just in time, to keep her hands on the counter, and had to resist the urge to place her hands on his shoulders in order to steady herself when she felt herself being lifted.

 

Red ran one hand down her thigh, lightly exerting pressure, and she made room for him between her thighs, her legs coming up to grip his hips as he settled himself between them. The hands on her hips dragged her forward until she was perched on the edge of the counter and her core situated against the hard line his cock made within his pants.

 

He pressed his lips to hers once again, fierce and open mouthed, his tongue sneaking out to swipe at her bottom lip. Suspiciously, tentatively, Liz allowed her mouth to drop open – it would be just like Red to tease her and only to take it away when she responded. However, there was no such teasing; as soon as her mouth dropped open his tongue slipped into her mouth.

 

Red took control of the kiss, his hand coming up to grip the hair at the back of her neck as he slanted his mouth against hers and deepened the kiss. She moaned as he stroked the tip of her tongue with his, and wiggled against him in an attempt to get him to touch her as she wished when his free ghosted provocatively around the swell of her breasts.

 

Red growled softly, low in his throat as her movements rubbed the heat of her core hard against him, and then he’s breaking the kiss, both his hands going to tug on the elastic waistband of her leggings demandingly. Short and to the point, he growled out, “ _Off_.” He didn’t wait for her to comply, just started tugging them off in a determined, singled minded manner; snagging her panties as he did so. Liz shifted, helping him shimmy off the articles of clothing.  Red stepped away from her momentarily to finish dragging the skin tight leggings off of her, before returning and starting on the buttons of her shirt.

 

The marble counter-top was cold against her bare skin, and she shifted self-consciously, suddenly feeling exposed under the heated stare was giving her as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt, his eyes pinning her in place he finished. His hips were between her thighs, holding her open and exposed, and she felt a fresh flush of heat and wetness between her legs. Then his gaze shifted downward, breaking eye contact, and rubbed her shirt between his fingers as he eyed her contemplatively. Liz softly inquired, “Red?”

 

“Do you know what you look like to me? Right now?” His eyes met hers once again, and she shook her head.  “You look like you’re _mine_ , Lizzie. Sitting on top of the counter, my unbuttoned shirt the only thing on you, all flushed and aroused. There’s just a couple things missing though, can you guess what they are, Lizzie?”

 

Liz shook her head again, eyes wide.  “What?”  She should _not_ find his possessive cave-man attitude such a turn on.

 

Red placed his mouth right next to her ear, and murmured “ _Let me show you,”_ to her, before latching high on side of her neck with his mouth, just below her ear, and worked to raise blood to the surface.

 

“ _Red_! It’ll show,” Liz protested, but didn’t move to stop him.

 

 

He paused just long enough to say, “I know,” before moving to a different spot on her neck. Red bit down, sharply, but not hard enough to break the skin before soothingly with his tongue. He focused on that spot for a little while longer, before switching his attention to another spot. Red slowly worked his way down her neck, leaving a swath of red marks in his wake to go along with the larger ones. “Don't worry; I’ll put some in places only we can see.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Liz said, attempting to sound dry and flat, but it just sounded breathless and aroused to her. She arched her back, trying to draw his attention downward. If he was going to be a possessive bastard and put marks all over her, the least he could do was pay some attention to her breasts.

 

Her movement shifted the material of shirt so it exposed her breasts and drew his eyes down. He cupped one large hand around her breast, using his thumb to brush against her tightly pebbled nipple. Red stared at her in a mesmerized manner, tongue slipping out to lick his lips as he watched his hand touch her. “Lean back.”

 

“What?” It took her a moment to focus on his words, but Red was already pushing her backwards.

 

“Lean back, Lizzie.” His voice was hoarse with desire as she dropped back to lean on her elbows, leaning her head back to rest it on wall behind her. Liz flexed her grip on the counter edge, wondering if he still wanted her to keep her hands there. Red’s eyes were drawn to the slight movement, and his next words answered her unvoiced questions. “Keep your hands there.  Remember what happens if you move them?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

 _Bossy son of a…_ “You’ll stop. I’ve got it, don’t move my hands.” _Get on with it already. You’re not even the slightest bit undressed yet, and here I am sitting nearly naked on the kitchen counter._

 

…

 

 _I’m not eating food fixed on this counter ever again._ Red drew her attention back to him by running his tongue in a circle around her nipple, drawing it into mouth and rolling it gently between his teeth before releasing it momentarily to blow air across it.   He switched his attention to her other breast, giving it the same attention, while he used one hand to caress the other. 

 

Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, so focused on the pleasure and desire Red was rousing that when she felt a couple of fingers probing at her wetness below, running teasing fingers along her folds, that she startles. Liz let out a surprised whimper, and then tried to press harder against the questing fingers. When Red evaded her, withdrawing his fingers until she settled back down against the counter, Liz let out a frustrated growl of her own, but subsided and lets him set the pace with simply an annoyed glare. She flexed against him, the dual sensations of his mouth on her breasts and his fingers exploring her wetness down below soon have her squirming against him and seeking out more contact.

 

She doesn’t get it, at least not in the manner she wished it. Instead, Red started kissing his way down her abdomen, and in a flash, she realizes just where his mouth was going to end.

 

Red must have sensed the change in mood, either from her involuntary tensing or a change in her respiration, but either way, he stopped his descent and looked inquiringly up at her face. “Lizzie? What’s wrong?” He asked as he read the emotion on her face.

 

Liz felt a sudden rush of gratitude toward him, for noticing her uneasiness and stopping, even if the reason for her sudden agitation sounds stupid – even within the confines of her own head. Her cheeks flush a bright red in embarrassment, and she shifts her gaze away from his. “It’s stupid.”

 

“And yet, I wish to hear it anyways.”

 

She bit her lip. As stupid as her reasons sounded to her, perhaps she should make the effort to tell him anyways. Unlike her earlier refusal to tell him something, this inquiry for information was prompted by concern, rather than a play for power. Rewarding good behavior, and all that. Or whatever. Liz kept her eyes on the buttons of his waistcoat and she started in slightly disjointed manner, “It makes me… uneasy… where you were going. With your mouth. Not afraid – just… uncomfortable.”

 

“To be clear, you are speaking about cunnilingus, correct? Not, say, my mouth on your bellybutton.”

 

Cunnilingus. It’s a slightly dry sounding word, and she’s glad he used that word rather than one of the other more colorful colloquial terms for it. It reassured her that he wasn’t teasing her in some way about it. Liz nodded in response to his question.

 

“And why does it make you uneasy?”

 

Liz paused to try to gather her thoughts. “It’s hard to…” She trailed off, then began again, “I’d feel exposed, vulnerable, but – not in a good way.” Liz stopped again, sighing in frustration. “I’m not explaining well.”

 

“No, you were fine. I understood what you meant.” Red studied her face. “Do you wish to move back to fingers only?”

 

Liz opened her mouth to say _yes_ , then paused. Did she? Liz trusted Red. She wasn’t worried about him hurting her, or anything like that. It was simply uneasiness over something she’d never tried before, and it wasn’t like she’d never thought of Red doing that. Of course, her little fantasies had been before any of this happened, back when it was made safe by the sheer unlikelihood of something like that ever happening. If she didn’t like it, they could always stop. Go on to something else. Liz found herself shaking her head in response, “No – I would like to at least try it.”

 

Red studied her face intently before nodding, “You’re going to have to unclench your legs – you’ve got me quite trapped. Just lean back, relax, and listen to my voice.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune into the next chapter for more smut, and to find out what Red means by the slow route. Poor Lizzie.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Even more so than last chapter, please notice the change in rating. Also, everything in here is completely consensual (and I’m fairly sure it comes off that way, but sometimes it’s hard to judge your own work), but Red is kind of aggressive in this. If you’re sensitive to that sort of thing, maybe skip it, or have someone else read it for you first. Or read the reviews.

Before he got started, Red dragged over one of the low stools from kitchen island in front of her. Her eyes slid from Red to the hard slate tile decorating the kitchen floor, and then back to Red to watch him settle himself onto the stool between her legs. As nice as the slate looked with the dark woods of the kitchen, it certainly wouldn’t be very forgiving on his knees.

Liz wiggled around in effort to find a more comfortable position; the hard marble wasn’t any more forgiving on elbows than the slate would have been to knees. She slid her hands back a fraction so she could lean her shoulders back against the wall, keeping an eye on Red for any sign that he would consider it breaking the little rules they’d – or rather he’d – set up, but all he gave her was a raised eyebrow and a kiss to the inside of her upper thigh.

“Comfortable?”

Liz’s response didn’t seem to want to leave her throat, so she gave him a sharp nod.

Red gave her another raised eyebrow, taking in her tense posture and the way her muscles twitched despite her efforts to relax them.  “Are you that nervous?”

She gave him a flat state. “No.”

“Right. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”  Despite her protest, she closed eyes anyway.  In for the penny, in for the pound and all that.

Liz held her breath as she waited for the first touch between her legs, fully expecting Red toss her strait into the deep in, but instead one long moment passed, then another, and then another. Liz counted twenty five heartbeats go by when, out of the darkness, she felt a faint touch on her forehead. 

She nearly jumped at the unexpected location of the touch, and it distracted her enough that it took her another five quick heartbeats before she recognized the feel of his lips. By then he’d already moved on to place feather light kisses both eye lids – a decidedly odd, ticklish sensation – and the tip of her nose, which roused a nervous giggle in her before she could stifle it. He hummed softly, an amused, pleased sound only slightly muffled by her neck as he left a string of kiss there.

Liz nearly shrieked when she abruptly felt Red’s quick, light fingers running up her sides, making her arch and squirm about in an attempt to dodge his tickling fingers. She couldn’t go far, not with her hands firmly planted place, and she was breathless with half suppressed laughter by the time he finally listened to her appeals to stop and switched his touch to firm caresses of her torso.

“Much better, Lizzie.” 

The tickling _had_ served to relax her tense body.  “I hate being tickled,” although her protest rather lacked strength due to the way she breathlessly panted it out.

“Hmmm, really? I can assure you it looked quite… appealing from this side of things,” Red said, insinuation heavy in his tone.

“Pig.”

“I can be rather greedy where you are concerned, can’t I?”   

She moaned out a breathless sounding “Red…” as he slipped one finger gently along and then between her folds, and she can feel the slick, easy way it slides with the aid of the natural lubricant her body provides it. Each portion of skin his finger comes into contact with seems to hum with awareness, and Liz can imagine the way it would be beginning to flush with arousal. Red, as she would have expected had she thought about it, avoids direct contact with her clit. Instead, his fingers tease the skin around it, moving with the involuntary twitches her body made in effort to move into and direct his touch.

“Hush… remember? Just relax and feel. Keep your eyes closed, just let your body focus on the feel of what I’m doing,” his words sounded distracted, and she didn’t have to think to figure out what was distracting him.  Her stomach twisted in agitated arousal at the image her imagination supplied her of how she must look to him, legs spread and skin flushed, his own eyes hooded in desire as he watched her. “Move your legs for me, sweetheart… Good…” Liz shifted her thighs further apart at the faint pressure of Red’s hand on her left upper thigh, and then moved her knees up on to what must be his shoulders at his further urging.  Liz curled her foot around so she could press the side of it against his back in a kind of half caress. 

She startled slightly at feeling only the thin, soft cotton material of his undershirt.  Liz moved her foot again, just to be sure. When had he taken off his vest and shirt? Had he taken anything else off?

Twice in two days Red had stripped down to his undershirt around her, and this time she didn’t even have the benefit of being able to see it. Somehow, being able to see Red in anything less than his formal waistcoat and shirt sleeves had taken on clandestine feel, like she was sneaking a peak at something she shouldn’t.

Had he stopped at taking off his shirt? Maybe he’d taken the time to all the way down to his underthings…

She could peak. Red would never know, not if she was quick, not with him probably being focused on parts of her body _other_ than her face.

Really, it would only be fair to check, considering he was seeing her clad in only his shirt. Liz hadn’t even seen him with his trousers off yet.

It would only be fair to – Liz let out a surprised complaint at the sudden, sharp pinch to the skin of her inner thigh.

“Keep your eyes closed, Lizzie.” Red soothed the area he’d just pinched with his tongue, but his tone was firm and unrelenting.

“They are,” Liz retorted peevishly. _Still alert then… Maybe later._

Red nipped her sharply on her inner in warning, “Make sure they stay that way then, Lizzie. Else I’ll get you a blindfold to wear.” Liz felt him reach over her to fetch something from beside her, and then she felt something cool and silky slide over the skin of her breasts. “Or maybe I’ll have you wear one anyway. I rather think I’d like the look of that…” He trailed the slim, cool, silky thing up her torso to her face and over her eyes in demonstration of his words.

His tie. That was what she was feeling. She’d forgotten he’d been wearing a tie. Liz squirmed in nervous desire as she imagined it wrapped around her eyes, and the other, darker uses her brain whispered to her that Red could put his tie to use for. She moaned low in her throat, and pressed her hips upwards into his hands.

“You like that idea, do you?” Liz groaned as he drew it away from her. She wasn’t quite sure if she liked the idea or not. It did have a strange sort of appeal to it… Red continued, “Some other time, perhaps. I’d rather be able to clearly see your facial expressions for now.”

He started mouthing his way along her inner thigh, stopping occasionally to raise up another mark on her skin with his mouth. Liz mentally tried to count all the hickies he’s given her so far. It’s an impressively overboard number. “Haven’t you outgrown the urge to put hickies on everyone you sleep with?”

“What can I say, seeing all that unblemished skin just makes me want to mark it as mine.  Now, one last reminder. Your hands need to stay where?”

Liz rolled her eyes behind her eyelids. Again? Honestly… “I know, I know, keep my hands on the counter, or else you’ll stop. I got it. You know, if your aim is to bore the nervousness out of me, congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Get on with it already.”

Liz felt Red’s fingers between her legs again, still not sliding inside of her or touching her clit but instead teasing the skin with light touches.  “Oh? Get on with what my dear?” He stopped all movement with his fingers. “We’ve covered so many different topics; I wouldn’t want to misinterpret you.”

Liz found herself rolling her eyes once again. His artificial concern didn’t fool her in the least – figures he would want her to _say_ it. Controlling bastard.  Liz purposely dropped her voice down an octave, making sure her voice sounded low and throaty and positively dripping with want,  and just the right amount of pleading, “Oh, _please_ , Red,  touch me like one of your _French girls_ , touch me with your mouth…”  and finished with a mewling sort of sigh. Then she dropped back into her normal voice, “Was that good, Red? Or did you want a little more of the helpless virgin? I mean, it’s been a while, but I think I can sham it convincingly...”

“Some other time, Lizzie, when I’ve got you tied down to headboard on my bed, then we can play ruthless criminal and helpless virgin. But for now, I think, we can just move on. You’ll have plenty of opportunities soon enough to work on your sincerity while begging.”

“How about _I_ tie _you_ down, and we can play ruthless FBI agent and helpless crim… wait…” _Opportunities?_ That… sounded vaguely alarming. “What do you mean opport – _Ah!_ ” Liz broke off in a yelp as he abruptly poked the tip of his tongue against her clit, the sudden contact causing her whole body to twitch and shudder.  “Some warning next time would – _Red!_ – _be nice!_ ” He’d swirled his tongue in a tight circle around the nub of her clit, making her clench her hands down against the hard marble of the counter top in order to refrain grabbing his head. Red scratched the nails of one hand lightly down the inside of her thigh, leaving a prickling sense of pleasure in his wake as he dragged the tip of his tongue against her clit again.  Liz felt the tip of one finger grazing her entrance just before it pushed inside, curling up slightly as it did and sending spikes of raw pleasure to join the ones coming from his tongue.

She was just on the verge of tipping over into a quick and dirty orgasm when, just as suddenly as he had begun, Red began to edge back off, switching from direct contact to soft caresses. Liz nearly growled in frustration, tightly squeezing her muscles around the finger Red still had inside of her, and tried to push herself the last little inch toward orgasm.

It failed. She could already feel herself easing down away from the edge, and this time Liz did growl in frustration. “ _Red!_ ” She snarled at him, digging in against back threateningly with her heel. “I can still kick you.”

“I wouldn’t advise it. I might decide to revisit a version of that ruthless criminal scenario, and put one of those clitoris stimulators on you on low for a couple of hours while we do some work on finding out who is after you. It would certainly make it more interesting for me, but I don’t think you’d find it very fun after the first hour or so. Maybe I’d let you come if you begged me _very sweetly,_ after that first hour.”

Liz gave a full body shudder at the sudden sharp twist of arousal his words provoked. 

She felt his breath against her down there once again as Red said, “I think you’re ready to go again, don’t you?”

Liz’s eyes widened in response and thought, with the slightest trepidation, _again?_ Just before his tongue was one her once again.

It wasn’t the same hard touch of tongue he’d used before, instead he kept his tongue light and teasing against the drawn back hood of her clitoris, poking it a little to draw it back to fully expose the bundle of hyper sensitive nerves it was protecting.

The light touch kept Red from accidently sending her already sensitive body strait into orgasm; instead it gradually started to work her up to it again, building slowly. The muscles in her stomach trembled,  and she could feel the first sheen of sweat break out on the palms of her hands,  making them slide against the counter before she caught them and held them still once again. Her hips bucked, unconsciously trying to seek out a firmer touch, only to have Red pin her hips down with one arm.

Red closed his lips around her clit, touched the tip of his tongue to the nub in the lightest of touches, and hummed.

It was a soft hum, only barely audible to her ears, but the vibrations that traveled down his tongue had her sliding her head further back against the wall and letting out keening moan that seemed to echo in her ears.

Liz felt the first tightening of orgasmic muscle spasms within her, her heart beating wildly to keep up the demands being placed on her body as she tried to chase down completion, only to have Red, _once again_ , back off just as she was about to tumble over.

Liz let out a frustrated moan, “ _Red_!” And tried to buck her hips against his hold. Pointlessly, as the arm he had over her easily kept her in place and unable press against his touch. “ _Please_ ,” she said plaintively, shuddering as she felt the twitches of muscles the signaled her oncoming orgasm recede and fade away.

Red continued to touch her, light, fleeting touches in the wrong places and of the wrong pressure to trigger an orgasm, but rather just enough to keep her arousal humming along with the occasional tremor as evidence of the previous staved off orgasms.

His previous words came back to her, her mind whispering them to her- _by the very slow route._

Her brain stalled as his meaning came to her.

 She’d thought he would simply drag everything out to a snail’s pace, one that she would be able to spur into a faster pace by provoking him in the correct manner.

Evidently, he’d instead meant that he would _**slowly**_ _drive her insane_. Liz couldn’t contain the whimper that bubbled up her throat at the thought of being pushed toward another orgasm only to have it taken away again.

“Oh? What was that, Lizzie?”

She let out a plaintive mewl when he slipped another finger inside her, the slickness inside of her helping it ease its way alongside the other one despite the tight fit. “Please, Red…”  She trailed off in a gasp as he started to gently thrust the fingers in unison inside of her, her body easing and softening around them as it got used to having them there.

“You’re awfully tight, Lizzie. Relax your muscles.”  He used his fingers to stroke inside of her, as if trying to coax her into following his words.

“I’m not tightening them, you bastard. It’s just been a while sense anything’s been up there.” Orgasm denial obviously made her a little snappish.

“And just how long is a while?”

_Nosy bastard._ Four months since the incident with her former husband. Several more months before that where she hadn’t wanted to touch him, much less have sex with him. So… seven months at least.

Probably closer to eight months. “None of your business.”  Her voice lacks any strength, though. Instead it just sounds needy and strung out.

“Probably not, although I can’t help but feel a morbid kind of curiosity.”  Red flexed his wrist, twisting his fingers inside of her. As he spoke, Red brought his thumb to rub firmly against her clit, “And really, I can guess accurately enough on my own, judging by how tight you are against even just my fingers, so I suppose the topic can be dropped.”

Liz felt herself building quickly to another orgasm, her over sensitized body easily pushed toward another orgasm. “ _Please, Red!_ ” She gasped as flicked his thumb against her lightly, “ _Red_ ,” she groaned out, thighs starting to tremble, and she could hear the pleading little mewls and whimpers she was making as Red slowly edged her ever closer to orgasm.

She let out a little sob as once again, he stopped. “What was that, Lizzie? Please what? Please stop? Did you want me to stop?”

The voice that comes from her mouth sounds foreign to her, a mixture neediness and entreaty that her voice has never quite hit before. “Nooo, please _don’t_ stop.”

“Oh, don’t stop… So you want to come Lizzie?”

She past caring about being embarrassed, all she wants is to come. “ _Yes!_ ” and nodded her head emphatically.

“Then tell me about this morning, Lizzie, and how I came to wake up with you squirming about on top of me.”

_Oh, fu… what the hell. Just tell him._ “I woke up before you, and I was… embarrassed, I guess.”

“And why were you embarrassed?” His fingers started moving inside her once again, which somehow made the story easier to tell.

“When I woke up I wasn’t on my own side. I’d moved in my sleep until I was curled up near you.” That sounded better than saying she’d cuddled up to him in her sleep.  “You were clutching me in a manner that made it very difficult to extract myself.  When I tried, you pulled me on top of you, and well, you rather like the extra pressure against parts of you, and rubbing those parts against me. Then you woke up, and I decided to pretend I was still asleep.  I figured you’d extract yourself from the situation. Which you did. And that’s how this morning came to be.”

“Good girl, Lizzie, was that so difficult?” Red switched his thumb for his tongue, and swirled it around her clit firmly before he said, “And the squirming and provocative little noises you were making? What of those?”

“You were _rubbing_ against me!  I just chose not to hide my response to it, while still pretending to be asleep. I figured it’d make you retreat to the other room. Well, it made sense at the time. And it worked.”

“Only because I was still half-way asleep.”

“I’d taken that into account.” Liz moaned as he crooked his fingers inside of her. She once again felt her orgasm building up on her; despite the distraction talking had given her. Liz let out a protesting moan when she felt him withdraw his fingers. “Red, but I _told_ you.”

He shushed her. “Just giving you another option.”

_Another option?_

“I can either make you come with my mouth, or,” Red took hold of her right hand, and drew it off of the counter and placed it on something hot and rock hard. Liz tightened her grip around his cock. Not covered in his trousers, but… silk boxer-briefs, if she guessed right.  His cock twitched against her hand. “Or I can use something else.”

Liz didn’t answer, and instead focused on memorizing the way he felt through the silk as she continued to caress his length, making sure the material slid across it playfully.

“Question answered,” Red said, shrugging her legs off his shoulders and dragging her off of the counter to straddle him.

Liz’s hands flew to his shoulders at the sudden movement, eyes flying open in alarm as she tried to steady herself.

“I did say I’d show you what would have happened had I realized you were awake, didn’t I? It’s only fair that I follow through with that, isn’t it?”

Liz nodded her head, not really caring all that much. All she wanted to do was come.  She rocked her hips against him as he shrugged off shirt, displacing her hands. Luckily, there are other parts of his body that still need to be de-clothed.

Like his cock.

She wiggled her fingers underneath the waistband, and pulled it down.

Too much time to have him stand up to take it off all the way.

 Red altered her rather hasty uncovering so it was comfortable for him, and then froze. “Lizzie, do we need a condom?”

She shook her head, and wrapped one hand around his cock.

“So you’re on something?”

_On something? What did Red mean by that?_ She shook her head again, about to open her mouth to ask, when he interrupted her.

“What? Not on… Oh, fu– I don’t think there are any condoms here. I wasn’t exactly planning to have sex with you.”

“I’m clean, got tested right after we found out that Tom cheated as well as being a two faced liar for the other side. You?”

“I’m clean as well, and I already – that’s not why I’m asking Lizzie.”  Red grabbed her hand, which had started to drag his length helpfully through her folds, transferring some of the slickness from her to his cock. “I’m talking about me getting you pregnant. This is not the best time to be worrying about someone as helpless as a baby.  It’s one thing for it to happen accidently, and quite another for it to happen because we acted carelessly.”

Liz stared at him, slightly disbelieving. “I can’t get pregnant. Really, as nosy as you are I thought that would have been one of the first things you found out.  It would have been in my medical files.”

“Must have missed that particular entry.”

“Tried for over a year, couldn’t get pregnant, so we both when in to get tested on it. He was fine, but I – well, I had a bunch of medical jargon I couldn’t understand. End of story, I can’t get pregnant, and we don’t need condoms. Can we go back to creating orgasms? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Liz huffed out an annoyed snort at the distracted look he gave her. _Time to get him back in the game. No fucking way we are going to sit here talking about this after he’s backed me off of an orgasm as many times as he has._

The first press of the flared head of his cock against her slick skin makes him jerk upwards, but her hand directing his cock keeps it from thrusting pre-maturely inside of her. He holds still after that first jerk, evidently content to let her guide the pace for now.

He’s lucky Liz didn’t feel up to prolonging it in order to tease _him_. She pressed her lips to his, licking inside and tasting herself on him. She gave a small mewl of aversion at the taste, but continued kissing him anyway as she rubbed him against her.

Once she judged him sufficiently slick, Liz tilted her hips, and pressed him against her entrance.

It doesn’t hurt, but it is a tight enough fit for her to be glad that Red’s letting her go at her own pace, _and_ that he has rather good self-control. She rocked against him, trying to make her muscles soften around him. She’s wet enough- it’s just the thickness of him combined with the fact that it’s been a while since she’s asked her body to do this that’s making it difficult. Red evidently decided it’s time for him to help out instead of just sit there, as he’s begun to take over the kiss, rolling his tongue against hers, and has moved to massage her clit with his thumb.

That extra bit of encouragement seems to do the trick, as the thickness inside of her turns from being uncomfortable to rather enjoyable. It’s thick enough to stimulate all the nerves on her walls, and twists her hips in a tentative corkscrew movement, and the results are fabulous. Red slides in until her hips are pressed against his, and he moaned into her mouth at being suddenly being enveloped by wet heat.  He thrust up, burying himself the last fraction of an inch inside of her as his hands go to her hips and press her down on him, before he was urging her lift her hips up.

Liz was more than eager to do so, she can feel her previously denied orgasm hovering just out of reach, and put both hands back on his shoulders to make it easier on her to slide slowly back up, testing for any lingering difficulties. The slide up is slick and easy, so Liz gives Red a quick nod and an encouraging buck of her own hips to tell him it’s fine for him to move.

Red’s first thrust was quick and hard, and his hands pull her hips down as he thrusts up. Liz broke the kiss to toss her head back and moan, and he takes the opportunity to attach his mouth to her neck again, adding yet another mark to her growing collection.

The next hard, slightly rough thrust was enough to have her building toward an orgasm, and she put together the coherence needed to growl out, “If you try to stop this one, I’m going to bash you over the head with something.”

The growl she got in response is possessive and aggressive, and he took his mouth off her neck just long enough to say, “Not going to stop. _Mine._ Can’t wait till your back is healed enough so that I can pin you down and-,” Red broke off and thrust roughly inside of her as Liz clamped down on him, abruptly tightening her walls around him, and claimed her mouth with his once again.

Her orgasm shoved itself suddenly on her, going from just out of reach to _right there_ in a sudden twist of her hips, and she’s moaning his name into his mouth as he continued to thrust up into her through it. His thumb circled against her clit, drawing out her orgasm and making the muscles wrapped around him quiver and tremble.  

By the time the last quake of her orgasm shivers over her, Liz was curled limply against Red, affectionate and slightly sleepy in the aftermath.  Red was still rock hard inside her, rocking up into in a more controlled manner, which was an oddly nice feeling, even without the urgency from earlier.  “I could come again, but I probably won’t be much help with work after that. One orgasm makes me sleepy, but two usually puts me out like a light.”

“We’ll camp out on the couch and you can sleep for a little bit, but after that we will both have to get back to work on it. More information on it should be coming in soon.”

She nodded her response sleepily into neck before opening her mouth and covering a bit of his neck with her mouth, and began to raise a mark of her own to the surface. Her own lingering arousal curled lazily inside her, “You can be a bit rougher, I’m not too oversensitive for it.” She rocked against him in demonstration.”

“I know.” He allowed her to finish putting her mark on him before drawing back from her. “I like watching the emotions play across your face, though. And this side of you is – endearing. Sweet. Affectionate. Not a combination you often allow yourself to be with me. I’m rather pleased at this little discovery even if it is a – well. A bit of strain to go slow and prolong it when my body is urging me to finish.”

“I want to feel you come.” Liz whispered into his ear seductively while squeezing her muscles around him, and rocked her hips to emphasize her point. “ _Please?_ You said I should tell you what I wanted.”

By his sudden intake of breath, and the sharp thrust he gave her; Red was on the last vestiges of his self-control. Liz clamped down on him once more, as hard as her tired muscle could handle, and was rewarded for her efforts by another rough thrust upwards that took her breath away and the feeling of him coming inside of her.

Red held onto enough coherence to growl softly against her mouth, and massages his thumb against her clit in a single minded focus to push her toward a second orgasm. Liz started to curl away – it was a little to firm and direct a touch for her still sensitive body to handle – but then she felt the first twinges of a second orgasm and rocked against him to direct his touch to the skin just around her clit which would get her there much faster.

A slight alteration of his thumb placement – no one could ever claim that Red was slow on the uptake – and she was tumbling off the cliff of a second orgasm.

 

 


End file.
